so gentle, gay, and kindly—that I could no more shut my heart on her image, than I could close that door against her presence. Explain why she distressed me so."
"She could not bear to be quite outcast; and then she would sometimes get a notion into her head, on a cold, wet day, that the school-room was no cheerful place, and feel it incumbent on her to go and see if you and Henry kept up a good fire; and once there, she liked to stay."
"But she should not be changeful: if she came at all, she should come oftener."
"There is such a thing as intrusion."
"To-morrow, you will not be as you are to-day."
"I don't know. Will you?"
"I am not mad, most noble Berenice! We may give one day to dreaming, but the next we must awake; and I shall awake, to purpose, the morning you are married to Sir Philip Nunnely. The fire shines on you and me, and shows us very clearly in the glass, Miss Keeldar; and I have been gazing on the picture all the time I have been talking. Look up! What a difference between your head and mine!—I look old for thirty!"
"You are so grave; you have such a square brow; and your face is sallow. I never regard you as a young man, nor as Robert's junior."
"Don't you? I thought not. Imagine Robert's clear-cut, handsome face looking over my shoulder.
