I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. Plote was sleeping or deaf. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere.
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