"Ay! I knew how it would be. Now you'll waken your mamma, just after she's gone to sleep so quietly. Miss Margaret my dear, I've had to keep it down this many a week: and though I don't pretend I can love her as you do, yet I loved her better than any other man, woman, or child--no one but Master Frederick ever came near her in my mind. Ever since Lady Beresford's maid first took me in to see her dressed out in white crape, and corn-ears, and scarlet poppies, and I ran a needle down into my finger, and broke it in, and she tore up her worked pocket-handkerchief, after they'd cut it out, and came in to wet the bandages again with lotion when she returned from the ball--where she'd been the prettiest young lady of all--I've never loved any one like her. I little thought then that I should live to see her brought so low. I don't mean no reproach to nobody. Many a one calls you pretty and handsome, and what not. Even in this smoky place, enough to blind one's eyes, the owls can see that. But you'll never be like your mother for beauty--never; not if you live to be a hundred."

'Ay! I knew how it would be. Now you'll waken your mamma again. Miss Margaret, my dear, I've had to keep it down this many a week; and though I don't pretend I can love her as you do, yet I've loved her better than any other but Master Frederick. Ever since Lady Beresford's maid first took me in to see her, and I ran a needle into my finger, and she tore up her pocket-handkerchief for bandages, I've never loved anyone like her. I little thought then that I should live to see her brought so low. I don't mean no reproach to nobody. Many a one calls you pretty and handsome, and what not, but you'll never be like your mother for beauty, not if you live to be a hundred.'
