us for good or evil—ed t kno, even  came up and gravely offered me ure! It seemed as if a linnet o my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny  t go: it stood by me range perseverance, and looked and spoke  of auty. I must be aided, and by t hand: and aided I was.

    “ole into my frame. It  t return to me—t it belonged to my   it pass a. I  nig a I t of you or c day I observed you—myself unseen—for  , and you could not go out of doors. I en and ctention for a s ient tle Jane; you talked to ime.  last s you, you lapsed at once into deep reverie: you betook yourself sloo pace t, you glanced out at tened to tly on and dreamed. I t dark: tion in your eye occasionally, a soft excitement in your aspect, ter, bilious,  musings of youts spirit follo of o an ideal o a servant in to and at yourself, Janet! t ion. It seemed to say—‘My fine visions are all very  I must not forget tely unreal. I  , I am perfectly a my feet a rougract to travel, and around me gatempests to encounter.’ You ran doairs and demanded of Mrs. Fairfax some occupation: ts to make up, or somet sort, I t ting out of my sight.

    “Impatiently I ed for evening, o my presence. An unusual—to me—a perfectly need o searc deeper and kno better. You entered t once s: you ly dressed—mucalk: ere long I found you full of strange contrasts. Your garb and manner ricted by rule; your air en diffident, and altoget of one refined by nature, but absolutely unused to society, and a good deal afraid of making ageously conspicu