I have been so for four months now, and I am a good deal wasted; my hand used to be very plump; look at it now.

Poor Arthur!" She turned away her head to drop a gentle, unselfish tear or two; and Hazel stared with increasing alarm at the lovely but wasted hand she still held out to him, and glanced, too, at Arthur Wardlaw's letter, held slightly by the beloved fingers.
He said nothing, and, when she looked round, again, he was pale and trembling.

The revelation was so sudden.
"Pray be calm, sir," said she.

"We need speak of this no more.

But now, I think, you will not be surprised that I come to you for religious advice and consolation, short as our acquaintance is." "I am in no condition to give them," said Hazel, in great agitation.