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The joy of the Queen at once more seeing the sun may be imagined. So unaccustomed had she grown to its light, that at first she thought it would blind her. As for Moufette, she was so quick and intelligent, that even at five or six years of age, she never failed to hit her mark, and so, in this way, the mother and daughter succeeded in somewhat lessening the ferocity of the fairy.,

During the meal the conversation was without any special interest, but afterwards, when Mr. Holman had retired for his siesta, Link O’Day joined the boys on the porch. The talk drifted from cattle to farming and from farming to forestry. On this topic the man spoke not only with knowledge but with enthusiasm.,

“Well—that was because of the boat-hook, you see; but I asked him to excuse me and we shook hands.”,

“Sure do,” was the answer. “’Specially safe as I elect myself a c’mittee o’ one to stick here on guard.”

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"I cannot explain it, madam," said the Queen, "unless the cause is due to the child I hope one day to have, who will perhaps be less unhappy than I am.",

The man knew his was a losing fight yet he wanted to struggle on. Through the years he had watched over his motherless boy, he had dreamed dreams. He had seen the time when Bob would enter his office, when he would become a partner and at last when he would take onto his young shoulders the whole burden of the work. It had been a good dream and he was loath to give it up. He made one more effort.,

'I was interrupted in my confession by a sound of deep sobs, and rising my eyes, Oh God, what were my sensations, when in the features of the holy father I discovered Angelo! His image faded like a vision from my sight, and I sunk at his feet. On recovering I found myself on my matrass, attended by a sister, who I discovered by her conversation had no suspicion of the occasion of my disorder. Indisposition confined me to my bed for several days; when I recovered, I saw Angelo no more, and could almost have doubted my senses, and believed that an illusion had crossed my sight, till one day I found in my cell a written paper. I distinguished at the first glance the handwriting of Angelo, that well-known hand which had so often awakened me to other emotions. I trembled at the sight; my beating heart acknowledged the beloved characters; a cold tremor shook my frame, and half breathless I seized the paper. But recollecting myself, I paused—I hesitated: duty at length yielded to the strong temptation, and I read the lines! Oh! those lines prompted by despair, and bathed in my tears! every word they offered gave a new pang to my heart, and swelled its anguish almost beyond endurance. I learned that Angelo, severely wounded in a foreign engagement, had been left for dead upon the field; that his life was saved by the humanity of a common soldier of the enemy, who perceiving signs of existence, conveyed him to a house. Assistance was soon procured, but his wounds exhibited the most alarming symptoms. During several months he languished between life and death, till at length his youth and constitution surmounted the conflict, and he returned to Naples. Here he saw my brother, whose distress and astonishment at beholding him occasioned a relation of past circumstances, and of the vows I had taken in consequence of the report of his death. It is unnecessary to mention the immediate effect of this narration; the final one exhibited a very singular proof of his attachment and despair;—he devoted himself to a monastic life, and chose this abbey for the place of his residence, because it contained the object most dear to his affections. His letter informed me that he had purposely avoided discovering himself, endeavouring to be contented with the opportunities which occurred of silently observing me, till chance had occasioned the foregoing interview.—But that since its effects had been so mutually painful, he would relieve me from the apprehension of a similar distress, by assuring me, that I should see him no more. He was faithful to his promise; from that day I have never seen him, and am even ignorant whether he yet inhabits this asylum; the efforts of religious fortitude, and the just fear of exciting curiosity, having withheld me from enquiry. But the moment of our last interview has been equally fatal to my peace and to my health, and I trust I shall, ere very long, be released from the agonizing ineffectual struggles occasioned by the consciousness of sacred vows imperfectly performed, and by earthly affections not wholly subdued.',

“See here! Why shouldn’t you take it right now? To tell the truth, I can’t imagine what a little boy like you should be doing with such a handsome fishing rod as this. I won’t say how much it cost—it was very expensive, you may be sure. Well, perhaps you had better ride with us back to town again, although you are so dirty, you are scarcely fit for the carriage.”