Oliver Twist/Source/Chapter 35: Difference between revisions
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<head> |
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| section = Chapter 35 |
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<meta charset="UTF-8"/> |
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| previous = [[../Chapter 34|Chapter 34]] |
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<title>Login required - All The Tropes</title> |
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| next = [[../Chapter 36|Chapter 36]] |
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<script async="" src="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=startup&only=scripts&skin=vector"></script> |
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===Containing The Unsatisfactory Result Of Oliver's Adventure; And A Conversation Of Some Importance Between Harry Maylie And Rose=== |
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=ext.gadget.NoSmallFonts&only=styles&skin=vector"/> |
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When the inmates of the house, attracted by Oliver's cries, |
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=site.styles&only=styles&skin=vector"/> |
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hurried to the spot from which they proceeded, they found him, |
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pale and agitated, pointing in the direction of the meadows |
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behind the house, and scarcely able to articulate the words, 'The |
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<link rel="apple-touch-icon" href="/apple-touch-icon.png"/> |
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Jew! the Jew!' |
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<link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico"/> |
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<link rel="search" type="application/opensearchdescription+xml" href="/w/opensearch_desc.php" title="All The Tropes (en)"/> |
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Mr. Giles was at a loss to comprehend what this outcry meant; but |
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<link rel="EditURI" type="application/rsd+xml" href="https://allthetropes.org/w/api.php?action=rsd"/> |
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Harry Maylie, whose perceptions were something quicker, and who |
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<link rel="license" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/"/> |
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had heard Oliver's history from his mother, understood it at |
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<link rel="alternate" type="application/atom+xml" title="All The Tropes Atom feed" href="/w/index.php?title=Special:RecentChanges&feed=atom"/> |
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once. |
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<!--[if lt IE 9]><script src="/w/load.php?debug=false&lang=en&modules=html5shiv&only=scripts&skin=vector&sync=1"></script><![endif]--> |
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'What direction did he take?' he asked, catching up a heavy stick |
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</head> |
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which was standing in a corner. |
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<div id="mw-head-base" class="noprint"></div> |
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'That,' replied Oliver, pointing out the course the man had |
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<div id="content" class="mw-body" role="main"> |
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taken; 'I missed them in an instant.' |
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<a id="top"></a> |
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<div id="siteNotice" class="mw-body-content"><!-- CentralNotice --></div><div class="mw-indicators mw-body-content"> |
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'Then, they are in the ditch!' said Harry. 'Follow! And keep as |
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</div> |
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near me, as you can.' So saying, he sprang over the hedge, and |
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<h1 id="firstHeading" class="firstHeading" lang="en">Login required</h1> <div id="bodyContent" class="mw-body-content"> |
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darted off with a speed which rendered it matter of exceeding |
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<div id="contentSub"></div> |
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difficulty for the others to keep near him. |
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<div id="jump-to-nav" class="mw-jump"> |
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Jump to: <a href="#mw-head">navigation</a>, <a href="#p-search">search</a> |
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Giles followed as well as he could; and Oliver followed too; and |
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</div> |
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in the course of a minute or two, Mr. Losberne, who had been out |
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walking, and just then returned, tumbled over the hedge after |
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them, and picking himself up with more agility than he could have |
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Retrieved from "<a dir="ltr" href="https://allthetropes.org/wiki/Special:Badtitle">https://allthetropes.org/wiki/Special:Badtitle{{Dead link}}</a>" </div> |
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been supposed to possess, struck into the same course at no |
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<div id="catlinks" class="catlinks catlinks-allhidden" data-mw="interface"></div> <div class="visualClear"></div> |
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contemptible speed, shouting all the while, most prodigiously, to |
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know what was the matter. |
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</div> |
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<div id="mw-navigation"> |
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On they all went; nor stopped they once to breathe, until the |
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<h2>Navigation menu</h2> |
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leader, striking off into an angle of the field indicated by |
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<div id="mw-head"> |
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Oliver, began to search, narrowly, the ditch and hedge adjoining; |
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<div id="p-personal" role="navigation" class="" aria-labelledby="p-personal-label"> |
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which afforded time for the remainder of the party to come up; |
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<h3 id="p-personal-label">Personal tools</h3> |
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and for Oliver to communicate to Mr. Losberne the circumstances |
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<ul> |
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that had led to so vigorous a pursuit. |
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<li id="pt-login-private"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:UserLogin&returnto=Oliver+Twist%2FSource%2FChapter+35&returntoquery=action%3Draw" title="You need to log in to use this wiki [o]" accesskey="o">Log in</a></li> </ul> |
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</div> |
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The search was all in vain. There were not even the traces of |
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<div id="left-navigation"> |
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recent footsteps, to be seen. They stood now, on the summit of a |
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<div id="p-namespaces" role="navigation" class="vectorTabs" aria-labelledby="p-namespaces-label"> |
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little hill, commanding the open fields in every direction for |
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<h3 id="p-namespaces-label">Namespaces</h3> |
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three or four miles. There was the village in the hollow on the |
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<ul> |
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left; but, in order to gain that, after pursuing the track Oliver |
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<li id="ca-nstab-special" class="selected"><span><a href="/w/index.php?action=raw&title=Oliver+Twist%2FSource%2FChapter+35" title="This is a special page, and it cannot be edited">Special page</a></span></li> </ul> |
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had pointed out, the men must have made a circuit of open ground, |
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</div> |
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which it was impossible they could have accomplished in so short |
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<div id="p-variants" role="navigation" class="vectorMenu emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-variants-label"> |
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a time. A thick wood skirted the meadow-land in another |
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<input type="checkbox" class="vectorMenuCheckbox" aria-labelledby="p-variants-label" /> |
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direction; but they could not have gained that covert for the |
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<h3 id="p-variants-label"> |
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same reason. |
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<span>Variants</span> |
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</h3> |
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'It must have been a dream, Oliver,' said Harry Maylie. |
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<div class="menu"> |
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<ul> |
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'Oh no, indeed, sir,' replied Oliver, shuddering at the very |
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</ul> |
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recollection of the old wretch's countenance; 'I saw him too |
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</div> |
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plainly for that. I saw them both, as plainly as I see you now.' |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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'Who was the other?' inquired Harry and Mr. Losberne, together. |
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<div id="right-navigation"> |
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<div id="p-views" role="navigation" class="vectorTabs emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-views-label"> |
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'The very same man I told you of, who came so suddenly upon me at |
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<h3 id="p-views-label">Views</h3> |
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the inn,' said Oliver. 'We had our eyes fixed full upon each |
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<ul> |
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other; and I could swear to him.' |
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</ul> |
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</div> |
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'They took this way?' demanded Harry: 'are you sure?' |
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<div id="p-cactions" role="navigation" class="vectorMenu emptyPortlet" aria-labelledby="p-cactions-label"> |
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<input type="checkbox" class="vectorMenuCheckbox" aria-labelledby="p-cactions-label" /> |
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'As I am that the men were at the window,' replied Oliver, |
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<h3 id="p-cactions-label"><span>More</span></h3> |
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pointing down, as he spoke, to the hedge which divided the |
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<div class="menu"> |
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cottage-garden from the meadow. 'The tall man leaped over, just |
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<ul> |
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there; and the Jew, running a few paces to the right, crept |
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</ul> |
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through that gap.' |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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The two gentlemen watched Oliver's earnest face, as he spoke, and |
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<div id="p-search" role="search"> |
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looking from him to each other, seemed to feel satisfied of the |
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<h3> |
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accuracy of what he said. Still, in no direction were there any |
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<label for="searchInput">Search</label> |
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appearances of the trampling of men in hurried flight. The grass |
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</h3> |
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was long; but it was trodden down nowhere, save where their own |
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<form action="/w/index.php" id="searchform"> |
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feet had crushed it. The sides and brinks of the ditches were of |
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<div id="simpleSearch"> |
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damp clay; but in no one place could they discern the print of |
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<input type="search" name="search" placeholder="Search All The Tropes" title="Search All The Tropes [f]" accesskey="f" id="searchInput"/><input type="hidden" value="Special:Search" name="title"/><input type="submit" name="fulltext" value="Search" title="Search the pages for this text" id="mw-searchButton" class="searchButton mw-fallbackSearchButton"/><input type="submit" name="go" value="Go" title="Go to a page with this exact name if it exists" id="searchButton" class="searchButton"/> </div> |
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men's shoes, or the slightest mark which would indicate that any |
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</form> |
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feet had pressed the ground for hours before. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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'This is strange!' said Harry. |
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</div> |
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<div id="mw-panel"> |
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'Strange?' echoed the doctor. 'Blathers and Duff, themselves, |
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<div id="p-logo" role="banner"><a class="mw-wiki-logo" href="/wiki/Main_Page" title="Visit the main page"></a></div> |
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could make nothing of it.' |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-navigation" aria-labelledby="p-navigation-label"> |
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<h3 id="p-navigation-label">Navigation</h3> |
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Notwithstanding the evidently useless nature of their search, |
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<div class="body"> |
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they did not desist until the coming on of night rendered its |
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<ul> |
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further prosecution hopeless; and even then, they gave it up with |
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<li id="n-Home-Page"><a href="/wiki/Main_Page">Home Page</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Community-Portal"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:Community_Portal">ATT Community Portal</a></li><li id="n-recentchanges"><a href="/wiki/Special:RecentChanges" title="A list of recent changes in the wiki [r]" accesskey="r">Recent changes</a></li><li id="n-randompage"><a href="/wiki/Special:Random" title="Load a random page [x]" accesskey="x">Random page</a></li><li id="n-MediaWiki-Help"><a href="/wiki/Help:Contents">MediaWiki Help</a></li><li id="n-Upload-file"><a href="/wiki/Special:Upload">Upload file</a></li> </ul> |
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reluctance. Giles was dispatched to the different ale-houses in |
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</div> |
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the village, furnished with the best description Oliver could |
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</div> |
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give of the appearance and dress of the strangers. Of these, the |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troper_Tools" aria-labelledby="p-Troper_Tools-label"> |
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Jew was, at all events, sufficiently remarkable to be remembered, |
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<h3 id="p-Troper_Tools-label">Troper Tools</h3> |
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supposing he had been seen drinking, or loitering about; but |
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<div class="body"> |
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Giles returned without any intelligence, calculated to dispel or |
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<ul> |
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lessen the mystery. |
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<li id="n-User-Blogs"><a href="/wiki/Special:ArticlesHome">User Blogs</a></li><li id="n-Newest-Blog-Posts"><a href="/wiki/Special:ArticleLists">Newest Blog Posts</a></li><li id="n-Write-a-Blog-Post"><a href="/wiki/Special:CreateBlogPost">Write a Blog Post</a></li><li id="n-Follow-Your-Friends"><a href="/wiki/Special:UserActivity">Follow Your Friends</a></li><li id="n-See-Friends.2FFoes"><a href="/wiki/Special:ViewRelationshipRequests">See Friends/Foes</a></li><li id="n-View-Your-Messages"><a href="/wiki/Special:UserBoard">View Your Messages</a></li><li id="n-See-Your-Gifts"><a href="/wiki/Special:ViewGifts">See Your Gifts</a></li><li id="n-Gift-a-Friend"><a href="/wiki/Special:GiveGift">Gift a Friend</a></li> </ul> |
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</div> |
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On the next day, fresh search was made, and the inquiries |
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</div> |
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renewed; but with no better success. On the day following, |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troping_Utilities" aria-labelledby="p-Troping_Utilities-label"> |
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Oliver and Mr. Maylie repaired to the market-town, in the hope of |
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<h3 id="p-Troping_Utilities-label">Troping Utilities</h3> |
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seeing or hearing something of the men there; but this effort was |
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<div class="body"> |
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equally fruitless. After a few days, the affair began to be |
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<ul> |
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forgotten, as most affairs are, when wonder, having no fresh food |
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<li id="n-ATT-Page-Creator"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:ATT_Page_Creator">ATT Page Creator</a></li><li id="n-Trope-Workshop"><a href="/wiki/Category:Trope_Workshop">Trope Workshop</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Forums"><a href="/wiki/Special:WikiForum">ATT Forums</a></li><li id="n-ATT-Forums-.28old.29"><a href="/wiki/Forum:All_The_Tropes">ATT Forums (old)</a></li><li id="n-ATT-WebChat-.28IRC.29"><a href="/wiki/Special:WebChat">ATT WebChat (IRC)</a></li><li id="n-ATT-WebChat-.28onwiki.29"><a href="/wiki/Special:Chat">ATT WebChat (onwiki)</a></li><li id="n-Troper-Userboxes"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:Userboxes">Troper Userboxes</a></li><li id="n-Mechanics-of-Writing"><a href="/wiki/Mechanics_of_Writing">Mechanics of Writing</a></li> </ul> |
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to support it, dies away of itself. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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Meanwhile, Rose was rapidly recovering. She had left her room: |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-Troper_Social_Networks" aria-labelledby="p-Troper_Social_Networks-label"> |
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was able to go out; and mixing once more with the family, carried |
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<h3 id="p-Troper_Social_Networks-label">Troper Social Networks</h3> |
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joy into the hearts of all. |
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<div class="body"> |
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<ul> |
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But, although this happy change had a visible effect on the |
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<li id="n-ATT-Twitter"><a href="https://twitter.com/ATTropes" rel="nofollow">ATT Twitter</a></li><li id="n-ATT-subreddit"><a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/AllTheTropes/" rel="nofollow">ATT subreddit</a></li> </ul> |
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little circle; and although cheerful voices and merry laughter |
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</div> |
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were once more heard in the cottage; there was at times, an |
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</div> |
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unwonted restraint upon some there: even upon Rose herself: |
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<div class="portal" role="navigation" id="p-tb" aria-labelledby="p-tb-label"> |
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which Oliver could not fail to remark. Mrs. Maylie and her son |
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<h3 id="p-tb-label">Tools</h3> |
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were often closeted together for a long time; and more than once |
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<div class="body"> |
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Rose appeared with traces of tears upon her face. After Mr. |
|||
<ul> |
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Losberne had fixed a day for his departure to Chertsey, these |
|||
<li id="t-specialpages"><a href="/wiki/Special:SpecialPages" title="A list of all special pages [q]" accesskey="q">Special pages</a></li><li id="t-print"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:Badtitle&action=raw&printable=yes" rel="alternate" title="Printable version of this page [p]" accesskey="p">Printable version</a></li><li id="t-urlshortener"><a href="/w/index.php?title=Special:UrlShortener&url=https%3A%2F%2Fallthetropes.org%2Fw%2Findex.php%3Ftitle%3DSpecial%3ABadtitle%26action%3Draw">Get shortened URL</a></li> </ul> |
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symptoms increased; and it became evident that something was in |
|||
</div> |
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progress which affected the peace of the young lady, and of |
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</div> |
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somebody else besides. |
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</div> |
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</div> |
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At length, one morning, when Rose was alone in the |
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<div id="footer" role="contentinfo"> |
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breakfast-parlour, Harry Maylie entered; and, with some |
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<ul id="footer-places"> |
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hesitation, begged permission to speak with her for a few |
|||
<li id="footer-places-privacy"><a href="//meta.miraheze.org/wiki/Privacy_Policy" class="extiw" title="m:Privacy Policy">Privacy policy</a></li> |
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moments. |
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<li id="footer-places-about"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:About" title="All The Tropes:About">About All The Tropes</a></li> |
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<li id="footer-places-disclaimer"><a href="/wiki/All_The_Tropes:General_disclaimer" title="All The Tropes:General disclaimer">Disclaimers</a></li> |
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'A few--a very few--will suffice, Rose,' said the young man, |
|||
<li id="footer-places-termsofservice"><a href="//meta.miraheze.org/wiki/Terms_of_Use" class="extiw" title="m:Terms of Use">Terms of Use</a></li> |
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drawing his chair towards her. 'What I shall have to say, has |
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<li id="footer-places-mobileview"><a href="https://allthetropes.org/w/index.php?title=Special:Badtitle&action=raw&mobileaction=toggle_view_mobile{{Dead link}}" class="noprint stopMobileRedirectToggle">Mobile view</a></li> |
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already presented itself to your mind; the most cherished hopes |
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</ul> |
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of my heart are not unknown to you, though from my lips you have |
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<ul id="footer-icons" class="noprint"> |
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not heard them stated.' |
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<li id="footer-copyrightico"> |
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<a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/"><img src="https://meta.miraheze.org/w/resources/assets/licenses/cc-by-sa.png" alt="Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0)" width="88" height="31"/></a> </li> |
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Rose had been very pale from the moment of his entrance; but that |
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<li id="footer-poweredbyico"> |
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might have been the effect of her recent illness. She merely |
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bowed; and bending over some plants that stood near, waited in |
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silence for him to proceed. |
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'I--I--ought to have left here, before,' said Harry. |
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'You should, indeed,' replied Rose. 'Forgive me for saying so, |
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but I wish you had.' |
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'I was brought here, by the most dreadful and agonising of all |
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apprehensions,' said the young man; 'the fear of losing the one |
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dear being on whom my every wish and hope are fixed. You had |
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been dying; trembling between earth and heaven. We know that |
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when the young, the beautiful, and good, are visited with |
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sickness, their pure spirits insensibly turn towards their bright |
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home of lasting rest; we know, Heaven help us! that the best and |
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fairest of our kind, too often fade in blooming.' |
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There were tears in the eyes of the gentle girl, as these words |
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were spoken; and when one fell upon the flower over which she |
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bent, and glistened brightly in its cup, making it more |
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beautiful, it seemed as though the outpouring of her fresh young |
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heart, claimed kindred naturally, with the loveliest things in |
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nature. |
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'A creature,' continued the young man, passionately, 'a creature |
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as fair and innocent of guile as one of God's own angels, |
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fluttered between life and death. Oh! who could hope, when the |
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distant world to which she was akin, half opened to her view, |
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that she would return to the sorrow and calamity of this! Rose, |
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Rose, to know that you were passing away like some soft shadow, |
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which a light from above, casts upon the earth; to have no hope |
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that you would be spared to those who linger here; hardly to know |
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a reason why you should be; to feel that you belonged to that |
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bright sphere whither so many of the fairest and the best have |
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winged their early flight; and yet to pray, amid all these |
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consolations, that you might be restored to those who loved |
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you--these were distractions almost too great to bear. They were |
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mine, by day and night; and with them, came such a rushing |
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torrent of fears, and apprehensions, and selfish regrets, lest |
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you should die, and never know how devotedly I loved you, as |
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almost bore down sense and reason in its course. You recovered. |
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Day by day, and almost hour by hour, some drop of health came |
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back, and mingling with the spent and feeble stream of life which |
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circulated languidly within you, swelled it again to a high and |
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rushing tide. I have watched you change almost from death, to |
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life, with eyes that turned blind with their eagerness and deep |
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affection. Do not tell me that you wish I had lost this; for it |
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has softened my heart to all mankind.' |
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'I did not mean that,' said Rose, weeping; 'I only wish you had |
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left here, that you might have turned to high and noble pursuits |
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again; to pursuits well worthy of you.' |
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'There is no pursuit more worthy of me: more worthy of the |
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highest nature that exists: than the struggle to win such a |
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heart as yours,' said the young man, taking her hand. 'Rose, my |
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own dear Rose! For years--for years--I have loved you; hoping to |
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win my way to fame, and then come proudly home and tell you it |
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had been pursued only for you to share; thinking, in my |
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daydreams, how I would remind you, in that happy moment, of the |
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many silent tokens I had given of a boy's attachment, and claim |
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your hand, as in redemption of some old mute contract that had |
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been sealed between us! That time has not arrived; but here, |
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with not fame won, and no young vision realised, I offer you the |
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heart so long your own, and stake my all upon the words with |
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which you greet the offer.' |
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'Your behaviour has ever been kind and noble.' said Rose, |
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mastering the emotions by which she was agitated. 'As you |
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believe that I am not insensible or ungrateful, so hear my |
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answer.' |
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'It is, that I may endeavour to deserve you; it is, dear Rose?' |
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'It is,' replied Rose, 'that you must endeavour to forget me; not |
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as your old and dearly-attached companion, for that would wound |
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me deeply; but, as the object of your love. Look into the world; |
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think how many hearts you would be proud to gain, are there. |
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Confide some other passion to me, if you will; I will be the |
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truest, warmest, and most faithful friend you have.' |
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There was a pause, during which, Rose, who had covered her face |
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with one hand, gave free vent to her tears. Harry still retained |
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the other. |
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'And your reasons, Rose,' he said, at length, in a low voice; |
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'your reasons for this decision?' |
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'You have a right to know them,' rejoined Rose. 'You can say |
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nothing to alter my resolution. It is a duty that I must |
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perform. I owe it, alike to others, and to myself.' |
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'To yourself?' |
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'Yes, Harry. I owe it to myself, that I, a friendless, |
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portionless, girl, with a blight upon my name, should not give |
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your friends reason to suspect that I had sordidly yielded to |
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your first passion, and fastened myself, a clog, on all your |
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hopes and projects. I owe it to you and yours, to prevent you |
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from opposing, in the warmth of your generous nature, this great |
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obstacle to your progress in the world.' |
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'If your inclinations chime with your sense of duty--' Harry |
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began. |
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'They do not,' replied Rose, colouring deeply. |
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'Then you return my love?' said Harry. 'Say but that, dear Rose; |
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say but that; and soften the bitterness of this hard |
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disappointment!' |
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'If I could have done so, without doing heavy wrong to him I |
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loved,' rejoined Rose, 'I could have--' |
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'Have received this declaration very differently?' said Harry. |
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'Do not conceal that from me, at least, Rose.' |
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'I could,' said Rose. 'Stay!' she added, disengaging her hand, |
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'why should we prolong this painful interview? Most painful to |
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me, and yet productive of lasting happiness, notwithstanding; for |
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it _will_ be happiness to know that I once held the high place in |
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your regard which I now occupy, and every triumph you achieve in |
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life will animate me with new fortitude and firmness. Farewell, |
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Harry! As we have met to-day, we meet no more; but in other |
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relations than those in which this conversation have placed us, |
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we may be long and happily entwined; and may every blessing that |
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the prayers of a true and earnest heart can call down from the |
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source of all truth and sincerity, cheer and prosper you!' |
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'Another word, Rose,' said Harry. 'Your reason in your own |
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words. From your own lips, let me hear it!' |
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'The prospect before you,' answered Rose, firmly, 'is a brilliant |
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one. All the honours to which great talents and powerful |
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connections can help men in public life, are in store for you. |
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But those connections are proud; and I will neither mingle with |
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such as may hold in scorn the mother who gave me life; nor bring |
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disgrace or failure on the son of her who has so well supplied |
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that mother's place. In a word,' said the young lady, turning |
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away, as her temporary firmness forsook her, 'there is a stain |
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upon my name, which the world visits on innocent heads. I will |
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carry it into no blood but my own; and the reproach shall rest |
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alone on me.' |
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'One word more, Rose. Dearest Rose! one more!' cried Harry, |
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throwing himself before her. 'If I had been less--less |
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fortunate, the world would call it--if some obscure and peaceful |
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life had been my destiny--if I had been poor, sick, |
|||
helpless--would you have turned from me then? Or has my probable |
|||
advancement to riches and honour, given this scruple birth?' |
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'Do not press me to reply,' answered Rose. 'The question does |
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not arise, and never will. It is unfair, almost unkind, to urge |
|||
it.' |
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'If your answer be what I almost dare to hope it is,' retorted |
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Harry, 'it will shed a gleam of happiness upon my lonely way, and |
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light the path before me. It is not an idle thing to do so much, |
|||
by the utterance of a few brief words, for one who loves you |
|||
beyond all else. Oh, Rose: in the name of my ardent and enduring |
|||
attachment; in the name of all I have suffered for you, and all |
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you doom me to undergo; answer me this one question!' |
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'Then, if your lot had been differently cast,' rejoined Rose; 'if |
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you had been even a little, but not so far, above me; if I could |
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have been a help and comfort to you in any humble scene of peace |
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and retirement, and not a blot and drawback in ambitious and |
|||
distinguished crowds; I should have been spared this trial. I |
|||
have every reason to be happy, very happy, now; but then, Harry, |
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I own I should have been happier.' |
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Busy recollections of old hopes, cherished as a girl, long ago, |
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crowded into the mind of Rose, while making this avowal; but they |
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brought tears with them, as old hopes will when they come back |
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withered; and they relieved her. |
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'I cannot help this weakness, and it makes my purpose stronger,' |
|||
said Rose, extending her hand. 'I must leave you now, indeed.' |
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'I ask one promise,' said Harry. 'Once, and only once more,--say |
|||
within a year, but it may be much sooner,--I may speak to you |
|||
again on this subject, for the last time.' |
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'Not to press me to alter my right determination,' replied Rose, |
|||
with a melancholy smile; 'it will be useless.' |
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'No,' said Harry; 'to hear you repeat it, if you will--finally |
|||
repeat it! I will lay at your feet, whatever of station of |
|||
fortune I may possess; and if you still adhere to your present |
|||
resolution, will not seek, by word or act, to change it.' |
|||
'Then let it be so,' rejoined Rose; 'it is but one pang the more, |
|||
and by that time I may be enabled to bear it better.' |
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She extended her hand again. But the young man caught her to his |
|||
bosom; and imprinting one kiss on her beautiful forehead, hurried |
|||
from the room. |
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