The soft agitation of wings caressed her cheek, and the air, breathing from the blue summer sky, bore a voice which whispered, "Robert may come home while you are in his house, and then, at least, you may look in his face--at least you may give him your hand; perhaps, for a minute, you may sit beside him."

And then, her thoughts whispered, "Robert may come home while you are there; you may give him your hand; perhaps, for a minute, you may sit beside him."
