out of it, together with much drawn out of the stores of a
memory, made preternaturally vivid by a long introverted life, which,
colourless itself, had nothing to do but to reflect and retain clear
images of the lives around it--out of these two sources I have compiled
the present history.

Therein, necessarily, many blank epochs occur. These I shall not try
to fill up, but merely resume the thread of narration as recollection
serves.

Thus, after this first day, many days came and went before I again saw
John Halifax--almost before I again thought of him. For it was one of
my seasons of excessive pain; when I found it difficult to think of
anything beyond those four grey-painted walls; where morning, noon, and
night slipped wearily away, marked by no changes, save from daylight to
candle-light, from candle-light to dawn.

Afterwards, as my pain abated, I began to be haunted by occasional
memories of something pleasant that had crossed my dreary life; visions
of a brave, bright young face, ready alike to battle with and enjoy the
world. I could hear the voice that, speaking to me, was always tender
with pity--yet not pity enough to wound: I could see the peculiar
smile just creeping round his grave mouth--that irrepressible smile,
indicating the atmosphere of thorough heart-cheerfulness, which ripens
all the fruits of a noble nature, and without which the very noblest
has about it something unwholesome, blank, and cold.

I wondered if John had ever asked for me. At length I put the question.

Jael "thought he had--but wasn't sure. Didn't bother her head about
such folk."

"If he asked again, might he come up-stairs?"

"No."

I was too weak to combat, and Jael was too strong an adversary; so I
lay for days and days in my sick room, often thinking, but never
speaking, about the lad. Never once asking for him to come to me; not
though it would have been life to me to see his merry face--I longed
after him so.

At last I broke the bonds of sickness--which Jael always riveted as
long and as tightly as she could--and plunged into the outer world
again.

It was one market-day--Jael being absent--that I came down-stairs. A
soft, bright, autumn morning, mild as spring, coaxing a wandering robin
to come and sing to me, loud as a quire of birds, out of the thinned
trees of the Abbey yard. I opened the window to hear him, though all
the while in mortal fear of Jael. I listened, but caught no tone of
her sha