"Come Veronica," he whispered, "give me yourself. I love you,
Veronica."
He sank down before her; she clasped her hands round his head, and kissed his hair.
"I know it," she said, in a clear voice.
I shut the door softly, thinking of the Wandering Jew, went upstairs, humming a little air between my teeth, and came down again into the dining-room, which was in a blaze of light.
"What preserves are these, Temperance?" I asked, going to the table.
"Some of Abram's quinces?"
"Best you ever tasted, since you were born."
"Call Mr. Somers, Fanny," said mother. "Is Verry in the parlor, too?"
"I'll call them," I said; "I have left my handkerchief there."
"Is anything else of yours there?" said Fanny, close to my ear.
Ben had pushed back the curtain, and was staring into the darkness;
Veronica was walking to and fro on the rug.