"It is a pity to see it; and a pity to see your eyes--and the scar of fire on your forehead: and the worst of it is, one is in danger of loving you too well for all this; and making too much of you."

     "I thought you would be revolted, Jane, when you saw my arm, and my cicatrised visage."

     "Did you? Don't tell me so--lest I should say something disparaging to your judgment. Now, let me leave you an instant, to make a better fire, and have the hearth swept up. Can you tell when there is a good fire?"

     "Yes; with the right eye I see a glow--a ruddy haze."

     "And you see the candles?"

     "Very dimly--each is a luminous cloud."

     "Can you see me?"

     "No, my fairy: but I am only too thankful to hear and feel you."

     "When do you take supper?"

     "I never take supper."

     "But you shall have some to-night. I am hungry: so are you, I daresay, only you forget."