A RECOVERY There was a moment of intense silence, only emphasized by the settling rustle of the girl's dress.

The door had closed softly, and Mr.Morris stood within, in the shadow by the window, ready to give help if it were needed.

Beatrice remained a yard inside the room, very upright and dignified, a little pale, looking from one to the other of the two brothers, who stared back at her as at a ghost.
Ralph spoke first, swallowing once or twice in his throat before speaking, and trying to smile.
"It is you then," he said.
Beatrice moved a step nearer, looking at Chris, who stood white and tense, his eyes wide and burning.
"Mr.Torridon," said Beatrice softly, "I have brought the bundle.

My woman has it." Still she looked, as she spoke, questioningly at Chris.
"Oh! this is my brother, the monk," snapped Ralph bitterly, glancing at him.

"Indeed, he is." Then Chris lost his self-control again.
"And this is my brother, the murderer; indeed, he is." Beatrice's lips parted, and her eyes winced.