There was a sound this time; yes, across the river she heard the solemn city bells strike three.
Wearily pacing the room--stealthily, that she might make no noise--walking the hours away, the lonely woman waited for her lover.
The winter, wind rose and wailed about the windows and moaned in the chimney, and in long, shrieking sobs died away.
"Abel! Abel!" she whispered, and started at the strangeness of her voice.
She opened the window softly and looked out.

The night was cold and, calm again, and the keen stars twinkled.

She saw nothing--she heard no sound.
She closed it again, and paced the room.

There were no tears in her eyes; but they were wide open, startled, despairing.

For the first time in her terrible life she had loved.
"But he kissed me before he went," she said, pleadingly, to herself; "he kissed me--he kissed me!" She said it when the solemn city bells struck three.