"
The Sister rose to retire.
"No, no," cried Sir Charles. "I have not thanked you. I ought to go
down on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?"
"No matter, sir."
"But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now
you give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me
with your name?"
"We have no name."
"Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you by
such a comparison."
"I'm her sister," said she, like lightning.
This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and
uncomfortable. It gave him a chill.
The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing.
Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. "It
must be as beautiful as your heart."
The Sister shook her head. "My face has been disfigured by a frightful
disorder."
Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity.
"I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do.
But perhaps it will not always be so."
"I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing for
you, who have done so much for me?"
"Nothing--unless--" said she, feigning vast timidity, "you could spare
me that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played in
this affair.
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