CHAPTER XIX. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists.
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