" "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. “I am just back from Paris. It is not the woman who speaks there. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling. I was worried. Wood," said she, in the deep, hoarse accents of consumption; "and may God Almighty bless and reward you for your kindness! You were always the best of masters to my poor husband; and now you've proved the best of friends to his widow and orphan boy. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink.
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