"You want a great number of things," I said; "medicines, of course--what
is the good of a doctor who sends no medicine?--and books. You will have
to keep yourself quiet a long time. You would like some books?"

"Oh, I have longed for books," she said, sighing; "but don't buy any;
lend me some of your own."

"Mine would be very unsuitable for a young lady," I answered, laughing
at the thought of my private library. "May I ask why I am not to buy
any?"

"Because I have no money to spend in books," she said.

"Well," I replied, "I will borrow some for you from the ladies I know.
We will not waste our money, neither you nor I."

I stood looking at her, finding it harder to go away than I had
supposed. So closely had I watched the changes upon her face, that every
line of it was deeply engraved upon my memory. Other and more familiar
faces seemed to have faded in proportion to that distinctness of
impression. Julia's features, for instance, had become blurred and
obscure, like a painting which has lost its original clearness of tone.

"How soon will you come back again?" asked the faint, plaintive voice.

Clearly it did not occur to her that I could not pay her a visit without
great difficulty. I knew how it was next to an impossibility to get over
to Sark, for some time at least; but I felt ready to combat even
impossibilities.