"She
is not young and blooming as thou, Faith, nor is it often that we see--"
"I tell thee, man, that sorrow preyeth upon her form, and that she liveth
but in the memory of the lost infant!"
"This is carrying mourning beyond the bounds of reason. The child is at
peace; as is thy brother, Whittal, beyond all manner of question. That we
have not discovered their bones, is owing to the fire, which left but
little to tell of--"
"Thy head is a charnel-house, dull Dudley, but this picture of its
furniture shall not suffice for me. The man who is to be my husband must
have a feeling for a mother's sorrows!"
"What is now getting uppermost in thy mind, Faith! Is it for me to bring
back the dead to life, or to place a child that hath been lost so many
years once more in the arms of its parents?"
"It is.--Nay, open not thine eyes, as if light were first breaking into
the darkness of a clouded brain! I repeat, it is!"
"I am glad that we have got to these open declarations, for too much of my
life hath been already wasted in unsettled gallanting, when sound wisdom,
and the example of all around me, have shown that in order to become the
father of a family, and to be esteemed for a substantial settler, I should
have both cleared and wived some years ago.
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