It suddenly made him contrast that very rapture with the bliss he had refused to another.
This breath of the passion immortal was all that other had asked; the descent of Mary Antrim opened his spirit with a great compunctious throb for the descent of Acton Hague.

It was as if Stransom had read what her eyes said to him.
After a moment he looked round in a despair that made him feel as if the source of life were ebbing.

The church had been empty--he was alone; but he wanted to have something done, to make a last appeal.

This idea gave him strength for an effort; he rose to his feet with a movement that made him turn, supporting himself by the back of a bench.

Behind him was a prostrate figure, a figure he had seen before; a woman in deep mourning, bowed in grief or in prayer.