—D'ye hear?" Still the widow remained silent. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. Horrible!" "Poor soul! her senses are going again," said Mr. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. He's passed through some rough mental torture. " "Ah! Now I can get a perspective. He kissed her deeply and hungrily. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up.
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