"Will your Grace take me to my coach?" she said. "I am not well. May
I--go?" as gently as a tender, appealing girl.

And moved by this, as by her pallor, more than his man's words could have
told, he gave her his arm and drew her quickly and supportingly away.

Mistress Anne did not sleep well that night, having much to distract her
mind and keep her awake, as was often in these days the case. When at
length she closed her eyes her slumber was fitful and broken by dreams,
and in the mid hour of the darkness she wakened with a start as if some
sound had aroused her. Perhaps there had been some sound, though all was
still when she opened her eyes; but in the chair by her bedside sat
Clorinda in her night-rail, her hands wrung hard together on her knee,
her black eyes staring under a brow knit into straight deep lines.

"Sister!" cried Anne, starting up in bed. "Sister!"

Clorinda slowly turned her head towards her, whereupon Anne saw that in
her face there was a look as if of horror which struggled with a grief, a
woe, too monstrous to be borne.

"Lie down, Anne," she said. "Be not afraid--'tis only I," bitterly--"who
need fear?"

Anne cowered among the pillows and hid her face in her thin hands. She
knew so well that this was true.

"I never thought the time would come," her sister said, "when I should
seek you for protection. A thing has come upon me--perhaps I shall go