rusted t s leave me.”

    “his day.”

    “Never  I al an empty mockery; and I e and abandoned—my life dark, lonely,  and forbidden to drink—my  famiso be fed. Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms nooo, as your sisters  kiss me before you go—embrace me, Jane.”

    “there!”’

    I pressed my lips to  and no  too. o arouse ion of ty of all this seized him.

    “It is you—is it, Jane? You are come back to me then?”

    “I am.”

    “And you do not lie dead in some ditcream? And you are not a pining outcast amongst strangers?”

    “No, sir! I am an independent woman now.”

    “Independent!  do you mean, Jane?”

    “My uncle in Madeira is dead, and  me five thousand pounds.”

    “Aical—t. Besides, t peculiar voice of ing and piquant, as : it c; it puts life into it.—, Janet! Are you an independent woman? A rich woman?”

    “If you  let me live o your door, and you may come and sit in my parlour w company of an evening.”

    “But as you are ric, friends  suffer you to devote yourself to a blind lameter like me?”

    “I told you I am independent, sir, as well as ricress.”

    “And you ay h me?”

    “Certainly—unless you object. I o you, to o sit o  on you, to be eyes and o you. Cease to look so melancer; you s be left desolate, so long as I live.”

    : racted; o speak:  a little embarrassed. Peroo rasionalities; and . Joy in my inconsiderateness. I  o be ation, not tain because unexpressed,   once as  no  to t effect escaping enan