"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 weak to render--I said after a brief pause--

     "Sir, I can give you no details to-night."