I was very silent for some time: all that awful time in the library, I had never made a sound: but suddenly, some thought came that reached the source of my tears, and I burst into a passion of weeping.

I am not sure what it was: I think, perhaps, the sight of the piano, and the recollection of that magnificent voice that would never be heard again, Whatever it was, I bless it, for I think it saved my brain.

I threw myself down upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.
Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly.

Once he turned away, and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a little more than he could bear.

But some men, like many women, are born to sacrifice.
He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words.