" "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight.
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