Elizabeth rose; she must go; she would have given a world to have him say something more. But he stood and saw her put on her gloves and arrange her cloak for going out, and he said nothing. Elizabeth longed to ask him the question, "What must I do?" -- she longed and almost lingered to ask it; -- but something, she did not know what, stopped her and choked her, and she did not ask it. He saw her down to the street, in silence on both sides, and they parted there, with a single grasp of the hand. _That_ said something again; and Elizabeth cried all the way home, and was well nigh sick by the time she got there. CHAPTER VI. How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague? TWELFTH NIGHT. Miss Haye came down to breakfast the next morning; but after little more than a nominal presentation of herself there, she escaped from Rose's looks and words of comment and innuendo and regained her own room. And there she sat down in the window to muse, having carefully locked out Clam. She had reason. Clam would certainly have decided that her mistress 'wanted fixing,' if she could have watched the glowing intent eyes with which Elizabeth was going deep into some subject -- it might be herself, or some other. Herself it was. "Well," -- she thought, very unconscious how clearly one of the houses on the opposite side of the street was defined on the retina of either eye, -- "I have learned two things by my precious yesterday's expedition, that I didn't know before -- or that if I did, it was in a sort of latent, unrecognized way; -- two pretty important things! -- That I wish I was a Christian, -- yes, I do, -- and that there is a person in the world who don't care a pin for me, whom I would lay down my life for! -- How people would laugh at me if they knew it -- and just because themselves they are not capable of it, and cannot understand it. -- Why shouldn't I like what is worthy to be liked? -- why shouldn't I _love_ it? It is to my honour that I do! -- Because he don't like _me_, people would say; -- and why should he like me? or what difference does it make? It is not a fine face or a fair manner that has taken me -- if it were, I should be only a fool like a great many others; -- it is those things which will be as beautiful in heaven as they are here -- the beauty of goodness -- of truth -- and fine character. -- Why should I not love it when I see it? I shall not see it often in my life-time. And what has his liking of me to do with it? How should he like me! The very reasons for which I look at him would hinder his ever looking at me -- and ought. I am not good, -- not good enough for him to look at me; there are good things in me, but all run wild, or other things running wild over them. I am not worthy to be spoken of in the day that his name is mentioned. I wish I was good! -- I wish I was a Christian! -- but I know one half of that wish is because he is a Christian. --That's the sort of power that human beings have