“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. So kind, so good to me always. . Her cargo is nearly shipped.
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