The kitchen visited and soothed, Moore betook himself to the parlour. He had Mrs. Yorke to appease; not quite so easy a task as the pacification of her housemaids. There she sat plunged in sullen dudgeon, the gloomiest speculations on the depths of man's ingratitude absorbing her thoughts. He drew near and bent over her; she was obliged to look up, if it were only to bid him "avaunt." There was beauty still in his pale, wasted features; there was earnestness and a sort of sweetness--for he was smiling--in his hollow eyes.
"Good-bye!" he said, and as he spoke the smile glittered and melted. He had no iron mastery of his sensations now; a trifling emotion made itself apparent in his present weak state.

Next Moore betook himself to the parlour. He had Mrs. Yorke to appease; she sat plunged in sullen dudgeon, speculating gloomily on the depths of man's ingratitude. He bent over her; she was obliged to look up. There was beauty still in his pale, wasted features; there was earnestness and a sort of sweetness in his hollow eyes.
"Good-bye!" he said, smiling. 