Then the eyes paled and faded; but still they sought for her painfully long after she had buried her head in the coverlet, unable to bear the sight.
And so vanished away Elsley Vavasour, poet and genius, into his own place.
"Let us pray," said a deep voice from behind the curtain: it was Mark Armsworth's.

He had come over with the first dawn, to bring the ladies food; had slipped upstairs to ask what news, found the door open, and entered in time to see the last gasp.
Lucia kept her head still buried: and Tom, for the first time for many a year, knelt, as the old banker commended to God the soul of our dear brother just departing this life.

Then Mark glided quietly downstairs, and Valencia, rising, tried to lead Mrs.Vavasour away.
But then broke out in all its wild passion the Irish temperament.

Let us pass it over; why try to earn a little credit by depicting the agony and the weakness of a sister?
At last Thurnall got her downstairs.

Mark was there still, having sent off for his carriage.