I know exactly how you love me, and how you always will love me.

And, oh, I wish I were dead! It can never be any thing but pain to you to see me,--never," and she wept more bitterly than before.
"You do not know me, Mercy," replied the Parson, speaking as slowly as she had done.

"All my life has been one long sacrifice of my own chief preferences.

It is not hard for me to do it." Mercy clasped her hands tighter, and groaned,-- "Oh, I know it! I know it! and I said you were on a plane above all thought of personal happiness." The Parson looked bewildered, but went on,-- "You do love me, my child, very dearly, do you not ?" "Oh, you know I do!" cried Mercy.

"You know I do!" "Yes, I know you do, or I should not have said that.