I Am Always Easy Of Belief When

You Mocking Changeling- Fairy-born And Human-bred!

Remorse Is The Poison Of Life.

I Seem To Have Gathered Up A Stray Lamb In My Arms: You Wandered Out Of The Fold To Seek Your Shepherd, Did You, Jane?

I Care For Myself. The More Solitary, The More Friendless, The More Unsustained I Am, The More I Will Respect Myself.

Amid The Worry Of A Self- Condemnatory Soliloquy, His Demeanour Seemed Grave, Perhaps Cold, Both To Me And His Mother. And Yet There Was No Bad Feeling, No Malice, No Rancour, No Littleness In His Countenance, Beautiful With A Man's Best Beauty, Even In Its Depression. When I Placed His Chair At The Table, Which I Hastened To Do, Anticipating The Servant, And When I Handed Him His Tea, Which I Did With Trembling Care, He Said: "thank You, Lucy," In As Kindly A Tone Of His Full Pleasant Voice As Ever My Ear Welcomed.