it in milk, and
put it to my lips. Her face was near mine: I saw there was pity in it,
and I felt sympathy in her hurried breathing. In her simple words, too,
the same balm-like emotion spoke: "Try to eat."

"Yes--try," repeated Mary gently; and Mary's hand removed my sodden
bonnet and lifted my head. I tasted what they offered me: feebly at
first, eagerly soon.

"Not too much at first--restrain her," said the brother; "she has had
enough." And he withdrew the cup of milk and the plate of bread.

"A little more, St. John--look at the avidity in her eyes."

"No more at present, sister. Try if she can speak now--ask her her
name."

I felt I could speak, and I answered--"My name is Jane Elliott." Anxious
as ever to avoid discovery, I had before resolved to assume an _alias_.

"And where do you live? Where are your friends?"

I was silent.

"Can we send for any one you know?"

I shook my head.

"What account can you give of yourself?"

Somehow, now that I had once crossed the threshold of this house, and
once was brought face to face with its owners, I felt no longer outcast,
vagrant, and disowned by the wide world. I dared to put off the
mendicant--to resume my natural manner and character. I began once more
to know myself; and when Mr. St. John demanded an account--which at
present I was far too weak to render--I said after a brief pause--

"Sir, I can give you no details to-night."

"But what, then," said he, "do you expect me to do for you?"

"Nothing," I replied. My strength sufficed for but short answers. Diana
took the word--

"Do you mean," she asked, "that we have now given you what aid you
require? and that we may dismiss you to the moor and the rainy night?"

I looked at her. She had, I thought, a remarkable countenance, instinct
both with power and goodness. I took sudden courage. Answering her
compassionate gaze with a smile, I said--"I will trust you. If I were a
masterless and stray dog, I know that you would not turn me from your
hearth to-night: as it is, I really have no fear. Do with me and for me
as you like; but excuse me from much discourse--my breath is short--I
feel a spasm when I speak." All three surveyed me, and all three were
silent.

"Hannah," said Mr. St. John, at last, "let her sit there at present, and
ask her no questions; in ten minutes more, give her the remainder of that
milk and bread. Mary and Diana, let us go into the parlour and talk the
matter