"That you prize?"
"Valuable and pretty?"
"Invaluable and sweet to me."
"Show it, mamma. Is it here or at Fieldhead?"
"It is talking to me now, leaning on me. Its arms are round me."
"Ah, mamma, you mean your teasing daughter, who will never let you alone; who, when you go into your room, cannot help running to seek for you; who follows you upstairs and down, like a dog."
"Whose features still give me such a strange thrill sometimes. I half fear your fair looks yet, child."
"You don't; you can't. Mamma, I am sorry papa was not good. I do so wish he had been. Wickedness spoils and poisons all pleasant things. It kills love. If you and I thought each other wicked, we could not love each other, could we?"
"And if we could not trust each other, Cary?"