Ah, but should she be all alone?
Just as she was lulling herself into a doze, that question seized and roused her.

And then it was not happiness that kept her waking: it was what is less rare in the female breast, curiosity.

Who was to be the mysterious third, to whose acquisition the three pounds were evidently to be devoted?
What new face had she purchased by the loan of her own?
Not the Pig-faced Lady nor the Spotted Boy.

Could it be the Norfolk Giant or the Calf with two Heads?
Horrible idea! Monstrous phantasmagoria began to stalk before her eyes; and to charm them away, with great fervour she fell to saying her prayers,--an act of devotion which she had forgotten, in her excitement, to perform before resting her head on the pillow,--an omission, let us humbly hope, not noted down in very dark characters by the recording angel.
That act over, her thoughts took a more comely aspect than had been worn by the preceding phantasies, reflected Lionel's kind looks and repeated his gentle words.

"Heaven bless him!" she said with emphasis, as a supplement to the habitual prayers; and then tears gathered to her grateful eyelids, for she was one of those beings whose tears come slow from sorrow, quick from affection.