“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the widow. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. Blood, they say, won't come out. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. And the woollen-draper departed. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly.
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