You're a young man.

You look more merciful and more patient than young men in general.

Won't you hear what I have to say?
Won't you tell me what I want to know ?" How were we to communicate?
Did he by any chance suppose that I had learnt the finger alphabet?
I touched my fingers and shook my head, as a means of dissipating his delusion, if it existed.
He instantly understood me.
"Even if you knew the finger alphabet," he said, "it would be of no use.
I have been too miserable to learn it--my deafness only came on me a little more than a year since.

Pardon me if I am obliged to give you trouble--I ask persons who pity me to write their answers when I speak to them.

Come to my room, and you will find what you want--a candle to write by." Was his will, as compared with mine, the stronger will of the two?
And was it helped (insensibly to myself) by his advantages of personal appearance?
I can only confess that his apology presented a picture of misery to my mind, which shook my resolution to refuse him.