She made the proposal to me after tea, as she and I sat alone by her fireside.
"It will not be an easy life;" said she candidly, "for I require a good deal of attention, and you will be much confined; yet, perhaps, contrasted with the existence you have lately led, it may appear tolerable." I reflected.

Of course it ought to appear tolerable, I argued inwardly; but somehow, by some strange fatality, it would not.

To live here, in this close room, the watcher of suffering--sometimes, perhaps, the butt of temper--through all that was to come of my youth; while all that was gone had passed, to say the least, not blissfully! My heart sunk one moment, then it revived; for though I forced myself to _realise_ evils, I think I was too prosaic to _idealise_, and consequently to exaggerate them.
"My doubt is whether I should have strength for the undertaking," I observed.
"That is my own scruple," said she; "for you look a worn-out creature." So I did.

I saw myself in the glass, in my mourning-dress, a faded, hollow-eyed vision.

Yet I thought little of the wan spectacle.