your tone of voice: it still renerut, it carries me back a year. I forget t you ie. But I am not a fool—go—”

    “ I go, sir?”

    “Your ohe husband you have chosen.”

    “?”

    “You kno. John Rivers.”

    “ my  love me: I do not love  is not as you love) a beautiful young lady called Rosamond. ed to marry me only because  I sable missionary’s  severe; and, for me, cold as an iceberg.  like you, sir: I am not  tractive in me; not even youtal points.—t leave you, sir, to go to him?”

    I sarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but beloved master. he smiled.

    “, Jane! Is true? Is sucate of matters between you and Rivers?”

    “Absolutely, sir! O be jealous! I ed to tease you a little to make you less sad: I t anger ter t if you  see ent. All my  is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and  e to exile t of me from your presence for ever.”

    Again, as s darkened . “My scared vision! My crippled strengtfully.

    I caressed, in order to soot ed to speak for  dared not. As urned aside e, I saear slide from under trickle do swelled.

    “I am no better tning-struck cnut-tree in t rig ruin o bid a budding s decay h freshness?”

    “You are no ruin, sir—no ligruck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants  your roots, ake deligiful sorengthem so safe a prop.”

    Again .

    “You speak of friends, Jane?” he asked.

    “Yes, of friends,” I ansatingly: for I kne more t could not tell o employ. he helped me.

    “A I  a wife.”