Miss Vere kneeled beside the tomb of her mother, to whose statue her features exhibited a marked resemblance.

She held the hand of the Dwarf, which she kissed repeatedly and bathed with tears.

He stood fixed and motionless, excepting that his eyes glanced alternately on the marble figure and the living suppliant.

At length, the large drops which gathered on his eye-lashes compelled him to draw his hand across them.
"I thought," he said, "that tears and I had done; but we shed them at our birth, and their spring dries not until we are in our graves.

But no melting of the heart shall dissolve my resolution.