Her face was near mine: I saw there was pity in it, and I felt sympathy in her hurried breathing.

In her simple words, too, the same balm-like emotion spoke: "Try to eat." "Yes--try," repeated Mary gently; and Mary's hand removed my sodden bonnet and lifted my head.

I tasted what they offered me: feebly at first, eagerly soon.
"Not too much at first--restrain her," said the brother; "she has had enough." And he withdrew the cup of milk and the plate of bread.
"A little more, St.John--look at the avidity in her eyes." "No more at present, sister.

Try if she can speak now--ask her her name." I felt I could speak, and I answered--"My name is Jane Elliott." Anxious as ever to avoid discovery, I had before resolved to assume an _alias_.
"And where do you live?
Where are your friends ?" I was silent.
"Can we send for any one you know ?" I shook my head.
"What account can you give of yourself ?" Somehow, now that I had once crossed the threshold of this house, and once was brought face to face with its owners, I felt no longer outcast, vagrant, and disowned by the wide world.

I dared to put off the mendicant--to resume my natural manner and character.