She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. At last his voice came to release her tension. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. . ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone.
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