"I can tell by your manner that you love her very dearly, Martha." "If she were my daughter, Felix, I could not love her more." The composure of her face and manner was wonderful to witness, after her late exhibition of passion and anxiety. "I love the girl you see before you with as intense a love as if I had suckled her at my breast, and as if all other ties upon me (if I ever had any), all other demands upon my love, had passed out of my life. Rather than see her come to harm"----(she stretched out her hands, which now were slightly trembling, and strove hard to preserve her quiet calm demeanour; but she could not quite succeed, as the tremor in her voice testified.) "Rather than see her come to harm, I would choose to have these fingers torn from my hands, joint by joint; I would submit to any suffering, to any indignity; I would live my unhappy life over a hundred times, and be a hundred times more unhappy than I have been. I don't know what could be dictated to me that I would not do for her sake." The passion of her words and the forced calm of her voice presented a strange contrast. Felix listened in wonder. "Does she know you are here, Martha?" "No." "How did you come upon her, then?" "I followed her from London. Chance alone befriended me. Yesterday I went to where she lived, and I was told she had moved." "Where did she live?" It was no surprise to hear her mention the street and the very house in which he had his lodgings, for as he asked the question he remembered how, on the first night of his taking up his quarters there, he had seen Martha pass swiftly out of the street-door as he was about to open it. He had not been very curious about the other lodgers in the house, being wishful that they should not be curious about him; but on two or three occasions he had seen a girl go up the stairs past his landing--a young graceful girl, who might have been Lizzie--who indeed, he settled in his own mind now, was Lizzie, although he had never seen her face. He said nothing of this to Martha, except that he knew the street. "You went to where Lizzie lived, and were told that she had moved----" "Lizzie had already told me so in a letter she wrote to me, and she said in it that in a day or two she would tell me more. But I could not rest after I received the letter. Here it is, Felix; read it." She took a letter from the bosom of her dress, and gave it to him. In the distance, the two girls, having drawn still further apart from Alfred and Mr. Sheldrake, were standing within the shadow of a great chestnut tree, the branches of which bent over them protectingly; their attitude bespoke the exercise of much affectionate feeling. Lizzie was speaking with animation, and Lily was listening, with a smile on her face. Alfred and Mr. Sheldrake were also engaged in conversation; their faces were towards the girls, and every now and then Alfred gave them a pleasant nod, and received smiles and bright glances in return.