A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. Every one turned to her in astonishment. "I am quite easy now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured my last prayer shall be for you. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it.
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