Not that she conceived him designedly base; but he outraged her now conscious delicacy, and what she had to endure as a girl seemed unbearable to her now.

Besides, she felt a secret shuddering at nameless things, which made her sick of the thought of returning to him and his Jew friends.
But, alas! he looked so miserable--a child of harmony among the sons of discord! He kept his head down, fiddling like a machine.

The old potatoe-days became pathetically edged with dead light to Emilia.

She could not be cruel.

"When I am safe," she laid stress on the word in her mind, to awaken blessed images, "I will see him often, and make him happy; but I will let him know that all is well with me now, and that I love him always." So she said to Mr.Pole, "I know one of those in the orchestra.