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Virtue's sigh, and Sorrow's moan! Not a sign of Johnny’s was to be seen. Who could have been so mean as to take it away? Of course he had put it in its place. (A great stirring up of things and searching everywhere.) Dear! How meddlesome people were! Here they had gone and hidden away his fishing rod. Really, wouldn’t any one be angry? Thus lovely, and thus veiled in obscurity, were the daughters of the noble Mazzini. But they were happy, for they knew not enough of the world seriously to regret the want of its enjoyments, though Julia would sometimes sigh for the airy image which her fancies painted, and a painful curiosity would arise concerning the busy scenes from which she was excluded. A return to her customary amusements, however, would chase the ideal image from her mind, and restore her usual happy complacency. Books, music, and painting, divided the hours of her leisure, and many beautiful summer-evenings were spent in the pavilion, where the refined conversation of madame, the poetry of Tasso, the lute of Julia, and the friendship of Emilia, combined to form a species of happiness, such as elevated and highly susceptible minds are alone capable of receiving or communicating. Madame understood and practised all the graces of conversation, and her young pupils perceived its value, and caught the spirit of its character..
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The falling evening again confused his prospects, and unsettled his hopes. The shades were deepened by thick and heavy clouds that enveloped the horizon, and the deep sounding air foretold a tempest. The thunder now rolled at a distance, and the accumulated clouds grew darker. The duke and his people were on a wild and dreary heath, round which they looked in vain for shelter, the view being terminated on all sides by the same desolate scene. They rode, however, as hard as their horses would carry them; and at length one of the attendants spied on the skirts of the waste a large mansion, towards which they immediately directed their course. After this, the moment he had swallowed his breakfast, off he would run to Kingthorpe; come home at noon, eat his dinner, and run straight out there again. “Well, I think I must go now,” he said, rising slowly. Katrina wanted everything done just so; the garden gate must not only be shut but latched; he must walk in the middle of the path, and he must always use the kitchen door. If he went to the other door, he was sure to hear “Dear, dear! How grand he is today! He must come in at the front door and make some one leave her work to let him in.” No, indeed. He would not go all that way around by King Street any more. Their old apples could hang and hang there forever, for all he cared..
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