But all this time their sad eyes never met--they dreaded the look of recollection that must be in each other's gaze.
"There, my dear!" said Miss Monro.

"Now you must lie still till I fetch you a little broth.

You are better now, are not you ?" "You need not go for the broth, Miss Monro," said Mr.Wilkins, ringing the bell.

"Fletcher can surely bring it." He dreaded the being left alone with his daughter--nor did she fear it less.

She heard the strange alteration in her father's voice, hard and hoarse, as if it was an effort to speak.