But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity.
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