On your hands, I only fear.

And I have not seen her yet!" "You shall see her," said Langholm, tenderly, gravely.

He was rewarded with a slight pressure of the emaciated hand; but for the first time he suspected that all the scrutiny was not upon one side--that the sick youth was trying to read him in his turn.
"I love her!" at last cried Severino, in rapt whispers.

"Do you hear me?
I love her! I love her! What does it matter now ?" "It would matter to her if you told her," rejoined Langholm.

"It would make her very unhappy." "Then I need not tell her." "You must not, indeed." "Very well, I will not.