"Worse than alone."
"But you must be getting better, since you can leave your bed?"
"I doubt whether I shall live: I see nothing for it, after such exhaustion, but decline."
"You—you shall go home to the Hollow."
"Dreariness would accompany—nothing cheerful come near me."
"I will alter this: this shall be altered, were there ten Mrs. Yorkes to do battle with."
"Cary, you make me smile."
"Do smile: smile again. Shall I tell you what I should like?"
"Tell me anything—only keep talking. I am Saul: but for music I should perish."
"I should like you to be brought to the Rectory, and given to me and mama."
"A precious gift! I have not laughed since they shot me till now."
"Do you suffer pain, Robert?"
"Not so much pain now; but I am hopelessly weak, and the state of my mind is inexpressible—dark, barren, impotent. Do you not read it all in my face? I look a mere ghost."
"Altered, yet I should have known you anywhere: but I understand your feelings: I experienced something like it. Since we met, I too have been very ill."
"Very ill?"
"I thought I should die. The tale of my life seemed told. Every night just at midnight I used to wake from awful dreams—and the book lay open
