Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. ” “Why not?” she asked quietly. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. Then I saw Mrs. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them.
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