He held it in his strong, cold, trembling clasp.
"Darling, do you know where I am going? I shall never see you, never again—unless you are like the sainted women of your faith who walked the prisons, and preached to them in bonds."
"Thy bonds are mine: but I am no preacher."
The drowsy lights swayed and twinkled, the wheels rang on the frozen rails as the wild, white wastes flew by.
"Father shall never know it," Phebe murmured. "He shall never know, if I can help it, why you called yourself unhappy."
"Is it such an unspeakable horror to you?" He winced.
"He has not many years to live; it would only be one disappointment more." She was leaning back in her seat; her eyes were closed; she looked dead weary, but patient, as if this too were life, and not more than her share.
"Has your father any money, dear?"
She smiled: "Do we look like people with money?"
"If they would only let me have my hands!" he groaned. "To think of shutting up a great strong fellow like me"—