She could not say a word, much less move. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. The chief of these was a figure of Liberty, with a cat at her feet, in allusion to the supposed origin of the fortunes of its former founder, Sir Richard Whittington. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. It was then for the first time she remembered that she had said nothing to her sister of the man in the hospital.
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