I have not got it; he would not give it; he is gone. Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine."
That Sunday evening, Mr. Malone coming, as usual, to pass it with his rector, Caroline withdrew after tea to her chamber. Fanny, knowing her habits, had lit her a cheerful little fire, as the weather was so gusty and chill. Closeted there, silent and solitary, what could she do but think? She noiselessly paced to and fro the carpeted floor, her head drooped, her hands folded. It was irksome to sit; the current of reflection ran rapidly through her mind; to-night she was mutely excited.

He would not give it; he is gone. Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human's eye has failed to greet mine."
That Sunday evening, when Mr. Malone came as usual to visit his rector, Caroline withdrew to her chamber, where Fanny had lit her a fire. Closeted there, silent and solitary, what could she do but think? She noiselessly paced to and fro, her head drooped, her hands folded.
