face was flushed and hot and as she sobbed and raged she plucked at her lips with an un hand selfish brutes said the girl sobbing and heaving between not what becomes of me leaving me here and thirsty and tired to starve for anything they care beasts il wretches my poor girl what is the matter she looked up suddenly with eyes and with her hands suspended in the act of her neck with great scarlet it s nothing to you what s the matter it don t � to any one � o yes it does i am sorry to see you so you arc not sorry said the girl you arc glad you know you are glad i never was like this but twice in the yonder and both times you found me i am afraid of you c � little afraid of mc yes you seem to come like my own anger my own malice my o � whatever it is � i don t know what it is but i am ill used am ill used i am ill used here the sobs and the tears and tearing hand which had all been suspended together since the first surprise went on together anew the visitor stood looking at her ith a strange attentive smile it was wonderful to see the fury of the contest in the girl and the bodily struggle she made as if she were rent by the of old i am younger than she is by two or three years and yet it s me that looks after her as if i was old and it s she that s always and called baby i the name i hate her they make a fool of her they spoil her she thinks of nothing but herself she thinks no more of me than if i was a stock and a stone so the girl went on you must have patience i wm t have patience k much care of themselves and little or none of you you most not mind it hush be more prudent you forget your dependent position i don t care for that i ll run away i ll do some mischief i won t bear it i can t bear it i shall die if i try to bear it the observer stood with her hand upon her own bosom looking at the girl as one afflicted with a part might curiously watch the and of an case the girl raged and with all the of her youth and of life until by little and little her passionate exclamations off into broken murmurs as if she were in pain by corresponding degrees she sunk into a chair then upon her knees then upon the ground beside the bed drawing the with her half to hide her head and wet hair in it and half as it seemed to embrace it rather than have nothing to take to her breast go away from me go away from me when my temper comes upon me i am mad i know i might keep it off if i only tried hard enough and sometimes i do try hard enough and at other times i don t and won t what have i said i knew when i said it it was all lies they think i am being taken care of somewhere and have all i want they are nothing but good to me i love them dearly no people could ever be kinder to a creature than they always are to me do do go away for i am afraid of you i am afraid of myself when i feel my temper coming and i am as much afraid of you away from me and let me pray and cry myself better i the day passed on and again the wide stare stared itself out and the hot night was on and through it the of the morning all dispersed went their appointed and thus ever by day and night the sun and under the stars climbing the dusty hills and toiling along the weary plains by land and by sea coming and going so ly to meet and to act and on one another move all we restless travellers through the pilgrimage of life ill r ni home it was a sunday evening in london gloomy close and stale bells of all degrees of sharp and flat cracked and dear and slow made the brick and mortar echoes hideous streets in a garb of the souls of the people who were condemned to look at them out of windows in dire despondency in every up almost every alley and down almost every turning some bell was throbbing as if the plague were in the city and the dead carts were going round everything was bolted and barred that could by relief to an people pictures no animals no rare plants or flowers no natural or wonders of the ancient world � all with that enlightened that the ugly south sea gods in the museum might have supposed themselves at home again nothing to see but streets streets streets nothing to breathe but streets streets streets nothing to change the brooding mind or raise it up nothing for the spent to do but to compare the monotony of his seventh day with the monotony of his six days think what a weary life he led and make the best of it � or the worst according to the at such a happy time so to the interests of religion and morality mr arthur newly arrived from by way of and by coach the blue eyed maid sat in the window of a coffee house on hill ten thousand responsible houses surrounded him frowning as heavily on the streets they composed as if they were every one inhabited by the ten young men of the s story who blackened their faces and 