ous by some solecism or blunder; yet o your interlocutor’s face: tration and poo get used to me: I believe you felt tence of sympater, Jane; for it oniso see ain pleasant ease tranquillised your manner: snarl as I c me  sagacious grace I cannot describe. I  once content and stimulated  I sa, for a long time, I treated you distantly, and sougellectual epicure, and ification of making t acquaintance: besides, I ing fear t if I s bloom  c. I did not t it ransitory blossom, but rat resemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem. Moreover, I ; you kept in till as your otle token of recognition, as ent . Your ual expression in tful look; not despondent, for you  sickly; but not buoyant, for you tle ual pleasure. I  of me, or if you ever t of me, and resolved to find t.

    “I resumed my notice of you. t; it  sc edium of your life—t made you mournful. I permitted myself t of being kind to you; kindness stirred emotion soon: your face became soft in expression, your tones gentle; I liked my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful . I used to enjoy a cing  time: tation in your manner: you glanced at me  trouble—a : you did not knoer and be stern, or t. I oo fond of you often to simulate t c cordially, suc and bliss rose to your young, ful features, I en to avoid straining you to my .”

    “Don’t talk any more of terrupted, furtively dasears from my eyes; orture to me; for I kne do—and do soon—and all tions of .

    “No, Jane,” urned: “y is to d, w is so mucure so mucer?”