They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. . “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. ” She picked at her sandwich idly. He waved to her.
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