"How long will you stay?" he asked at length.
"I cannot leave her so, Dr. Sandford."
"You cannot stay here!"
"Why not?"
"It would be a peculiar proceeding. You would not do it?"
"I cannot do otherwise, Dr. Sandford. I cannot leave her alone in this condition."
"I cannot leave you," he said.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," I returned, looking at him. "And something may need to be done."
The doctor's look in answer was unguarded; it expressed so much that he did not generally allow himself to express; it was full of tenderness, of reverence, of affection. Full it was of sorrow too. It was not a look I could meet. I turned from it hastily; the former question was let drop; and we were again still and silent. I had enough to keep me silent, and Dr. Sandford was as mute. All three of us only breathed in company, for a long while more; though I suppose some of Dr. Sandford's meditations and mine came near together. I do not know how time went; but then, the one to break silence was the one I had thought might never speak again. Suddenly she began in a low sort of crooning voice, saying over and over the same words -
"I am in the valley - in the valley - in the valley -"