"Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. ” “Only you won’t let me live.
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