nd in view. From that time, the old man
never, for a moment, forgot the weakness and devotion of the child;
from the time of that slight incident, he who had seen her toiling by
his side through so much difficulty and suffering, and had scarcely
thought of her otherwise than as the partner of miseries which he felt
severely in his own person, and deplored for his own sake at least as
much as hers, awoke to a sense of what he owed her, and what those
miseries had made her. Never, no, never once, in one unguarded moment
from that time to the end, did any care for himself, any thought of his
own comfort, any selfish consideration or regard distract his thoughts
from the gentle object of his love.

He would follow her up and down, waiting till she should tire and lean
upon his arm--he would sit opposite to her in the chimney-corner,
content to watch, and look, until she raised her head and smiled upon
him as of old--he would discharge by stealth, those household duties
which tasked her powers too heavily--he would rise, in the cold dark
nights, to listen to her breathing in her sleep, and sometimes crouch
for hours by her bedside only to touch her hand. He who knows all, can
only know what hopes, and fears, and thoughts of deep affection, were
in that one disordered brain, and what a change had fallen on the poor
old man. Sometimes--weeks had crept on, then--the child, exhausted,
though with little fatigue, would pass whole evenings on a couch beside
the fire. At such times, the schoolmaster would bring in books, and
read to her aloud; and seldom an evening passed, but the bachelor came
in, and took his turn of reading. The old man sat and listened--with
little understanding for the words, but with his eyes fixed upon the
child--and if she smiled or brightened with the story, he would say it
was a good one, and conceive a fondness for the very book. When, in
their evening talk, the bachelor told some tale that pleased her (as
his tales were sure to do), the old man would painfully try to store it
in his mind; nay, when the bachelor left them, he would sometimes slip
out after him, and humbly beg that he would tell him such a part again,
that he might learn to win a smile from Nell.

But these were rare occasions, happily; for the child yearned to be out
of doors, and walking in her solemn garden. Parties, too, would come
to see the church; and those who came, speaking to others of the child,
sent more; so even at t