"It is I, Rawdon," she said in a timid voice, which she strove to render cheerful. "It is Jane." Rawdon was quite overcome by that kind voice and presence. He ran up to her--caught her in his arms--gasped out some inarticulate words of thanks and fairly sobbed on her shoulder. She did not know the cause of his emotion.

"It is I, Rawdon," she said timidly. "It is Jane."
Rawdon was quite overcome by that kind voice. He ran up - caught her in his arms - gasped out some inarticulate words of thanks and fairly sobbed on her shoulder. She did not know why.
