Wan as a spirit, thin as a shadow,
the sparkle gone from her blue eyes, the golden glimmer from the yellow
hair, she sat there with folded hands and weary, hopeless eyes that
never left the desolate sea. Not imprisonment, not the desolation of the
prospect, not the loneliness, not the fasting had wrought the change,
but the knowledge that she was this man's wife.
Dr. Oleander had ample time to stand there and view the scene. She never
stirred. If she heard the door open, she made no more sign than if she
were stone deaf.
"Mollie!" he called, advancing a step.
At the sound of that hated voice she gave a violent start, a faint,
startled cry, and, turning for the first time, eyed him like a wild
animal at bay.
"Mollie, my poor little girl," he said in a voice of real pity, "you are
gone to a shadow! I never thought a few days' confinement could work
such a change."
She never spoke; she sat breathing hard and audibly, and eying him with
wild, wide eyes.
"You mustn't give way like this, Mollie; you mustn't really, you know.
It will not be for long.
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