"My sister, thou art so rich, that thou must do me alms; I am very hungry; I have forgotten to eat since breakfast;--and now thou shalt bring me bread and a cup of water, Isabel, ere I go forth from thee. Last night I went rummaging in a pantry, like a bake-house burglar; but to-night thou and I must sup together, Isabel; for as we may henceforth live together, let us begin forthwith to eat in company." Isabel looked up at him, with sudden and deep emotion, then all acquiescing sweetness, and silently left the room. As she returned, Pierre, casting his eyes toward the ceiling, said--"She is quiet now, the pacing hath entirely ceased." "Not the beating, tho'; her foot hath paused, not her unceasing heart. My brother, she is not quiet now; quiet for her hath gone; so that the pivoted stillness of this night is yet a noisy madness to her." "Give me pen or pencil, and some paper, Isabel." She laid down her loaf, and plate, and knife, and brought him pen, and ink, and paper. Pierre took the pen. "Was this the one, dear Isabel?" "It is the one, my brother; none other is in this poor cot." He gazed at it intensely. Then turning to the table, steadily wrote the following note: "For Delly Ulver: with the deep and true regard and sympathy of Pierre Glendinning. "Thy sad story--partly known before--hath now more fully come to me, from one who sincerely feels for thee, and who hath imparted her own sincerity to me. Thou desirest to quit this neighborhood, and be somewhere at peace, and find some secluded employ fitted to thy sex and age. With this, I now willingly charge myself, and insure it to thee, so far as my utmost ability can go. Therefore--if consolation be not wholly spurned by thy great grief, which too often happens, though it be but grief's great folly so to feel--therefore, two true friends of thine do here beseech thee to take some little heart to thee, and bethink thee, that all thy life is not yet lived; that Time hath surest healing in his continuous balm. Be patient yet a little while, till thy future lot be disposed for thee, through our best help; and so, know me and Isabel thy earnest friends and true-hearted lovers." He handed the note to Isabel. She read it silently, and put it down, and spread her two hands over him, and with one motion lifted her eyes toward Delly and toward God. "Thou think'st it will not pain her to receive the note, Isabel? Thou know'st best. I thought, that ere our help do really reach her, some promise of it now might prove slight comfort. But keep it, and do as thou think'st best." "Then straightway will I give it her, my brother," said Isabel, quitting him.