Page:Joan, the curate.djvu/242

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236
Joan, The Curate.

Ann suddenly raised her head, and looked into his face with a steadfast earnestness which could not but arrest his attention. In her gray eyes there was a strange light, in her whole manner a softness, both new and surprising. Even her voice seemed to have lost every trace of robust peasant harshness, and to have become tender and melting.

"Sir, sir, you don't understand! How can I make you understand?" cried she passionately.

Then, as he looked into her face with astonishment and curiosity, she suddenly turned, walked a few steps towards a door in the darkest part of the hall, and beckoned him to follow her.

"Come hither, sir, out into the air!" said she, in a low voice. "I am stifling here; I want to feel the fresh wind on my face while I speak."

Her voice was full of strong emotion. Tregenna paused an instant, suspecting treachery in the strange woman; but she divined the cause of his hesitation, and with a sudden change to fire and pride, she said—

"You need not fear me. See, there is no