"But I can't devote myself entirely to a child," said she; "it may die — which is not at all improbable."… — Anne Brontë
"But I can't devote myself entirely to a child," said she; "it may die — which is not at all improbable."
"But, with care, many a delicate infant has become a strong man or woman."
"But it may grow so intolerably like its father that I shall hate it."
"That is not likely; it is a little girl, and strongly resembles its mother."
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"Why," said I — "why should you suppose that I dislike the place?"
"You told me so yourself," was the decisive reply. "You said, at least, that you could not live contentedly, without a friend; and that you had no friend here, and no possibility of making one — and, besides, I know you must dislike it."
"I've done you a piece of good service, Nancy," he began: then seeing me, he acknowledged my presence by a slight bow. I should have been invisible to Hatfield, or any other gentleman of those parts. "I've delivered your cat," he continued, "from the hands, or rather the gun, of Mr. Murray's gamekeeper."
"If you mean Mr. Weston to be one of your victims," said I, with affected indifference, "you will have to make such overtures yourself that you will find it difficult to draw back when he asks you to fulfil the expectations you have raised."
