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affection arms asked bear beauty believe Briarheath called Carisbrook cause child close cloth comes condition confidence course dear Doctor Trevor doubt dream entered expression eyes face feel felt girl give grave hand head heard heart Hester Hester Howard hope hour Howard husband interest James Julius keep knew lady least leave letter light lips live looked Lora Lynne madam manner matter Mattie means Melissa mind Miss Miss McClane Mulgrave nature never night once passed perhaps person poor possession present received reply rest seemed seen sister sister Hester sleep smile soul speak spirit standing strange suffering suppose sure Sutton tell thing thought tion true truth turned voice whole wife wish woman young
Pagina 165 - I PANT for the music which is divine, My heart in its thirst is a dying flower ; Pour forth the sound like enchanted wine, Loosen the notes in a silver shower; Like a herbless plain, for the gentle rain, I gasp, I faint, till they wake again.
Pagina 309 - Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill, A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.
Pagina 397 - Are there not, Festus, are there not. dear Michal, Two points in the adventure of the diver, One — when, a beggar, he prepares to plunge, One — when, a prince, he rises with his pearl ? Festus, I plunge ! Fest.
Pagina 18 - I was literally hurried through it by my intense sympathy, my devouring curiosity— it was more than interest. I read everywhere — between the courses of the hoteltable, on the boat, in the cars— until I had swallowed the last line. This is no common occurrence with a veteran romance-reader like myself.
Pagina 18 - I have read it twice— the second time more carefully than the first — and I use the term ' wonderful ' because it best expresses the feeling uppermost in my mind, both while reading and thinking it over. As a piece of imaginative writing, I have seen nothing to equal it since the days of Edgar A. Poe, and I doubt whether he could have sustained himself and reader through a book of half the size of the