old,--altered
though I be in face and mind. I have allowed myself to pity that child;
while I speak, I can pity you. Yes! pity,--when I think of what you
were. Must you go on thus? To what! Jasper Losely," she continued,
sharply, eagerly, clasping her hands, "hear me: I have an income, not
large, it is true, but assured; you have nothing but what, as you say,
you may lose to-morrow; share my income! Fulfil your solemn promises:
marry me. I will forget whose daughter that girl is; I will be a mother
to her. And for yourself, give me the right to feel for you again as I
once did, and I may find a way to raise you yet,--higher than you can
raise yourself. I have some wit, Jasper, as you know. At the worst you
shall have the pastime, I the toil. In your illness I will nurse you: in
your joys I will intrude no share. Whom else can you marry? to whom else
could you confide? who else could--"

She stopped short as if an adder had stung her, uttering a shriek of
rage, of pain; for Jasper Losely, who had hitherto listened to her,
stupefied, astounded, here burst into a fit of merriment, in which
there was such undisguised contempt, such an enjoyment of the ludicrous,
provoked by the idea of the marriage pressed upon him, that the insult
pierced the woman to her very soul.

Continuing his laugh, despite that cry of wrathful agony it had caused,
Jasper rose, holding his sides, and surveying himself in the glass,
with very different feelings at the sight from those that had made his
companion's gaze there a few minutes before so mournful.

"My dear good friend," he said, composing himself at last, and wiping
his eyes, "excuse me, but really when you said whom else could I
marry--ha! ha!--it did seem such a capital joke! Marry you, my fair
Crane! No: put that idea out of your head; we know each other too well
for conjugal felicity. You love me now: you always did, and always will;
that is, while we are not tied to each other. Women who once love me,
always love me; can't help themselves. I am sure I don't know why,
except that I am what they call a villain! Ha! the clock striking seven:
I dine with a set of fellows I have picked up on the race-ground; they
don't know me, nor I them; we shall be better acquainted after the third
bottle. Cheer up, Crane: go and scold Sophy, and make her act if you
can; if not, scold Rugge into letting her alone. Scold somebody; nothing
like it, to keep other folks quiet, and one's self busy. Adieu!