getting well, I was growing young in the sweet proofs of your
friendship: you see how I droop and wither under your displeasure! Thou
art divine, my love, and canst make me either more or less than mortal.
Indeed I am thy creature, thy slave--I only wish to live for your
sake--I would gladly die for you--

S. That would give me no pleasure. But indeed you greatly overrate my
power.

H. Your power over me is that of sovereign grace and beauty. When I am
near thee, nothing can harm me. Thou art an angel of light, shadowing
me with thy softness. But when I let go thy hand, I stagger on a
precipice: out of thy sight the world is dark to me and comfortless.
There is no breathing out of this house: the air of Italy will stifle
me. Go with me and lighten it. I can know no pleasure away from thee--

"But I will come again, my love, An' it were ten thousand mile!"



THE MESSAGE





S. Mrs. E---- has called for the book, Sir.

H. Oh! it is there. Let her wait a minute or two. I see this is a
busy-day with you. How beautiful your arms look in those short sleeves!