Is there--naught ?" "Naught," answered Clorinda, her form drawn to its great full height, her lustrous eyes darkening.

"What should there be that you could understand ?" "Not some small thing--not some poor thing ?" Anne said, her fingers nervously twisting each other, so borne down was she by her awful timorousness, for awful it was indeed when she saw clouds gather on her sister's brow.

"I have so loved you, sister--I have so loved you that my mind is quickened somehow at times, and I can understand more than would be thought--when I hope to serve you.

Once you said--once you said--" She knew not then nor ever afterwards how it came to pass that in that moment she found herself swept into her sister's white arms and strained against her breast, wherein she felt the wild heart bounding; nor could she, not being given to subtle reasoning, have comprehended the almost fierce kiss on her cheek nor the hot drops that wet it.
"I said that I believed that if you saw me commit murder," Clorinda cried, "you would love me still, and be my friend and comforter." "I would, I would!" cried Anne.
"And I believe your word, poor, faithful soul--I do believe it," my lady said, and kissed her hard again, but the next instant set her free and laughed.

"But you will not be put to the test," she said, "for I have done none.