But John Halifax would not hear of that.
And Ursula--she was sitting sewing, while the little one lay on her lap, cooing softly with shut eyes--Ursula took my hand to play with Muriel's.

The baby fingers closed over mine--"See there, Phineas; SHE wants you too." So I stayed.
Perhaps it was on this account that better than all his other children, better than anything on earth except himself, I loved John's eldest daughter, little blind Muriel.
He had several children now.

The dark old house, and the square town garden, were alive with their voices from morning till night.

First, and loudest always, was Guy--born the year after Muriel.

He was very like his mother, and her darling.