Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. . It worked. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. . I wouldn't accept my life from him. Besides ——” She stopped short. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. Nor was he long in making it available.
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