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He kept his head down, fiddling like a machine. The old potatoe-days became pathetically edged with dead light to Emilia. She could not be cruel. "When I am safe," she laid stress on the word in her mind, to awaken blessed images, "I will see him often, and make him happy; but I will let him know that all is well with me now, and that I love him always." So she said to Mr.
Pole's encouragement, he assumed a taciturn aspect worthy of a youthful anchorite, and continued to be the spectator of a scene to which his soul was dead. "I believe that fellow's thinking of nothing but his supper," said Mr. Pole. "I dare say he dined early in the day," returned Emilia, remembering how hungry she used to be in the evenings of the potatoe-days.
Pole's encouragement, he assumed a taciturn aspect worthy of a youthful anchorite, and continued to be the spectator of a scene to which his soul was dead. "I believe that fellow's thinking of nothing but his supper," said Mr. Pole. "I dare say he dined early in the day," returned Emilia, remembering how hungry she used to be in the evenings of the potatoe-days.
He kept his head down, fiddling like a machine. The old potatoe-days became pathetically edged with dead light to Emilia. She could not be cruel. "When I am safe," she laid stress on the word in her mind, to awaken blessed images, "I will see him often, and make him happy; but I will let him know that all is well with me now, and that I love him always." So she said to Mr.
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