"There is nothing to be done, dear George, but what I tell you. We must break off with one another, and you must try to forget by-gone days: that will soon be easy enough for you. As for me, I do not see there is any need for me to try to forget, for I may as well think over everything that is pleasant; and it will always be a pleasure to me to think how kind you have been to me, and how true you have been to me!" and she held out her hand in the direction where he stood, moving it slowly towards him as blind people do. He took her hand, he grasped it firmly; he pressed it between his own hard palms, occasionally patting it, in silence for some minutes, till at length he let it fall, and dropping his head upon the deal dresser, he burst into an agony of uncontrollable sobs. CHAPTER V. These orbs, that Heaven's gay light no longer know, Nor meet with kindred beam affection's eye, (Long, long denied each grateful ministry!) Still own the tear that flows for others' woe! _Unpublished Poems._ Susan sat dissolved in silent tears. The dame had clasped her hands in prayer. Old Nicholas's head rested on his staff, while tears also rolled from his sightless eyes. It is not a new remark, but it is always a touching reflection, that eyes which have long forgotten to minister to pleasurable objects should still retain the faculty of weeping. Few more words were spoken that evening by the party assembled in Master Foster's house. It was necessary that George Wells should decide whether he meant to take the neighbouring cottage. There was no alternative, and he was obliged to give it up. But he still continued to visit Susan. The summer came on, and he often led her carefully forth to walk in their accustomed paths. He thought in his heart that he should never marry, and he was sure he could never like any girl as well as Susan. He sometimes told her so, and she gladly believed him; and she found herself, when thus convinced of his continued affection, less unhappy than she had imagined it possible to be under her melancholy deprivation. Her skill in knitting almost exceeded that of her old mistress; and although she could not earn as much as she formerly had by needle-work, still the farmers' wives patronized her; some of the gentry in the nearest country town bought her muffettees as fast as she could make them; and she was able to assist her parents in some degree. The household cares fell heavier on old Sarah, but she had a willing spirit, and grudged no labour for those she loved. One of Susan's most constant customers for her worsted manufactures was Mrs. Otley, who thought, in the absence of the Mowbrays, it was incumbent upon her to patronise their favourites. Though her husband rented but a small farm not exceeding a hundred acres, she was not, in her own estimation, a personage of small importance. She was possessed with that desire of aping her betters, which is the misfortune of many in her condition.