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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 82, August, 1864"


"Mr. Turner," she exclaimed, starting up, with flashing eyes and glowing
cheeks, "you've no right to ask me such a question!"
That blushing by moonlight! It was too much to be endured with calmness.
I felt myself giving way before it.
But I sha'n't tell any more. It's no sign, because a man opens his
heart, that he should let everything drop out of it.
If those interested know, that, at my earnest request, she gave me the
right to ask not only that question, but others which would naturally
follow, they know enough.
I would willingly tell them, though, if our English language had a few
thousand words added to it, how delightful it was to know that this
sweet wild-rose had been blossoming for me, that our singing-bird had
been singing for me! I am willing to tell, too, how foolish I felt, when
the deceitfulness of the human heart, of my own human heart, became
apparent; when I found that I had been loving for myself, while I
thought I was loving for David,--that I had been jealous for myself, and
not for him; when I found that I had been studying my chapter, without
regarding the notes underneath.


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