For with William--" She could say no more, and departed adrip with tears.
Matilda's nightly visits were a loss; but Mrs.De Peyster had come to take her situation more and more philosophically.

The life was unspeakably tedious, to be sure, and rather dangerous, too; but she had accepted the predicament--it had to be endured and could not be helped; and such a state of mind made her circumstances much easier to support.

All in all, there was no reason, though, of course, it was most uncomfortable--there was no good reason, she kept assuring herself, why she might not safely withstand the siege and come out of the affair with none but her two confidants being the wiser.
In this philosophic mood three more days passed--passed slowly and tediously, to be sure, but yet they did get by.

There were relaxations, of course,--things to occupy her mind.

She read a little each day; she listened to Mary's concert in the drawing-room below her--for Mary dared to continue playing despite Matilda's absence, since it was known that Matilda's niece was in the house, though Mary never showed her face; she listened for snatches of the conversation of Jack and Mary and Mr.Pyecroft when they passed her door; at times she stood upon a chair at one of her windows and cautiously peered through the little panes in her shutters, like the lens of a camera, down into the sunny green of Washington Square.
Also, of evenings, she found herself straining to hear the voice of Judge Harvey.