Once he made a slight movement when Fay reached Michael's arrest, but he quickly recovered himself.
The faint voice faltered itself out at last.

The story was at an end.
The Duke was dead and Michael was in prison.
"I have kept him there two years," said Fay, and was silent.
How she had raged against the cruelty of her husband's dying words.

What passionate, vindictive tears she had shed at the remembrance of them.
Now, unconsciously, she adopted them herself.

She had ceased to resist them, and the sting had gone clean out of them.
"Two years," said the Bishop.

"Two years.