On approaching the couch, they found Sir Rowland senseless, and extended over the dead body of his unfortunate sister. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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