第68部分(第6/7 页)

　speak。

“Perhaps　a　little　water　would　restore　her。　Hannah；　fetch　some。　But　she　is　worn　to　nothing。　How　very　thin；　and　how　very　bloodless！”

“A　mere　spectre！”

“Is　she　ill；　or　only　famished？”

“Famished；　I　think。　Hannah；　is　that　milk？　Give　it　me；　and　a　piece　of　bread。”

Diana　（I　knew　her　by　the　long　curls　which　I　saw　drooping　between　me　and　the　fire　as　she　bent　over　me）　broke　some　bread；　dipped　it　in　milk；　and　put　it　to　my　lips。　Her　face　was　near　mine：　I　saw　there　was　pity　in　it；　and　I　felt　sympathy　in　her　hurried　breathing。　In　her　simple　words；　too；　the　same　balm…like　emotion　spoke：　“Try　to　eat。”

“Yes—try；”　repeated　Mary　gently；　and　Mary’s　hand　removed　my　sodden　bon　and　lifted　my　head。　I　tasted　what　they　offered　me：　feebly　at　first；　eagerly　soon。

“Not　too　much　at　first—restrain　her；”　said　the　brother；　“she　has　had　enough。”　And　he　withdrew　the　cup　of　milk　and　the　plate　of　bread。

“A　little　more；　St。　John—look　at　the　avidity　in　her　eyes。”

“No　more　at　present；　sister。　Try　if　she　can　speak　now—ask　her　her　name。”

I　felt　I　could　speak；　and　I　answered—“My　name　is　Jane　Elliott。”　Anxious　as　ever　to　avoid　discovery；　I　had　before　resolved　to　assume　an　alias。

“And　where　do　you　live？　Where　are　your　friends？”

I　was　silent。

“Can　we　send　for　any　one　you　know？”

I　shook　my　head。

“What　account　can　you　give　of　yourself？”

Somehow；　now　that　I　had　once　crossed　the　threshold　of　this　house；　and　once　was　brought　face　to　face　with　its　owners；　I　felt　no　longer　outcast；　vagrant；　and　disowned　by　the　wide　world。　I　dared　to　put　off　the　mendicant—to　resume　my　natural　manner　and　character。　I　began　once　more　to　know　myself；　and　when　Mr。　St。　John　demanded　an　account—which　at　present　I　was　far　too　wea