Once more she raised those resistless eyes to mine.
"Then I am, indeed, alone in the world--alone and forsaken." "Nay, nay!" I cried, eagerly; "do not say so.

Clare will take care of you." "And you ?" she asked, in a voice that must have melted an anchorite.
"I will help her--or, rather, I will take care of you both." "What is your sister like ?" she asked, eagerly.

"Is she very clever--very beautiful?
Shall I be frightened at her ?" "She is the sweetest and most gentle of girls--doubly gentle from her great affliction." "What affliction ?" she asked eagerly, "you did not tell me there was anything the matter with her." "She has a spinal complaint," I replied, "and is unable to move." "Is it quite incurable ?" she asked again.
"We hope not; perhaps a change of air may do something for her; but even at the best, it will be years before she is able to go about." "I am so sorry," she said; "so very sorry.

How sad for you and for her.
I can understand why you want a companion for her; she can take no active share in the management of a large establishment like this." "No, no share at all.

We will not decide anything until my sister comes; but it seems to me that she will be most thankful to have you here, that you will be more useful to her than I can say.