"Worse than alone."

"But you must be getting better, since you can leave your bed?"

"I doubt whether I shall live: I see nothing for it, after such exhaustion, but decline."

"You—you shall go home to the Hollow."

"Dreariness would accompany—nothing cheerful come near me."

"I will alter this: this shall be altered, were there ten Mrs. Yorkes to do battle with."

"Cary, you make me smile."

"Do smile: smile again. Shall I tell you what I should like?"

"Tell me anything—only keep talking. I am Saul: but for music I should perish."

"I should like you to be brought to the Rectory, and given to me and mama."

"A precious gift! I have not laughed since they shot me till now."

"Do you suffer pain, Robert?"

"Not so much pain now; but I am hopelessly weak, and the state of my mind is inexpressible—dark, barren, impotent. Do you not read it all in my face? I look a mere ghost."

"Altered, yet I should have known you anywhere: but I understand your feelings: I experienced something like it. Since we met, I too have been very ill."

"Very ill?"

"I thought I should die. The tale of my life seemed told. Every night just at midnight I used to wake from awful dreams—and the book lay open