"It is no reproach against you."
"It is a coal of fire heaped on my head; and so is every word you address to me, and every look that lights your sweet face. Come still nearer, Lina, and give me your hand—if my thin fingers do not scare you."
She took those thin fingers between her two little hands—she bent her head "et les effleura de ses lèvres" (I put that in French because the word "effleurer" is an exquisite word). Moore was much moved: a large tear or two coursed down his hollow cheek.
"I'll keep these things in my heart, Cary: that kiss I will put by, and you shall hear of it again one day."
"Come out!" cried Martin, opening the door. "Come away—you have had twenty minutes instead of a quarter of an hour."
"She will not stir yet—you hempseed."
"I dare not stay longer, Robert."
"Can you promise to return?"
"No, she can't," responded Martin. "The thing musn't become customary: I can't be troubled. It's very well for once: I'll not have it repeated."
"You'll not have it repeated!"
"Hush! don't vex him—we could not have met to-day but for him: but I will come again, if it is your wish that I should come."
"It is my wish—my one wish—almost the only wish I can feel."
"Come this minute: my mother has coughed, got up, set her feet on the floor. Let her only catch
