Dr. Theophilus, coming in with the messenger, bent over her for a long minute.
"I always thought her sense of honour would kill her," he said at last as he looked up.
CHAPTER XIX
SHOWS THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE
A week after Miss Matoaca's funeral, Sally met me in one of the secluded streets by the Capitol Square, and we walked slowly up and down for an hour in the November sunshine. In her black clothes she appeared to have bloomed into a brighter beauty, a richer colour.
"Why can't I believe, Sally, that you will really marry me a week from to-day?"
"A week from to-day. Just you and I in old Saint John's."
"And Miss Mitty, will she not come with you?"
"She refuses to let me speak your name to her. It would be hard to leave her, Ben, if—if she hadn't been so bitter and stern to me for the last year. I live in the same house with her and see nothing of her."