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Beauty ate her supper with a good appetite. She had lost almost all her fear of the monster, but she almost died of fright, when he said, "Beauty, will you be my wife?",

Bob hesitated for a perceptible interval before he answered. “I don’t know. Somehow I don’t think we’d better,” he said at last. “Lately I don’t know what has come over him. He never was very enthusiastic about the Service but I thought he was really fond of Mr. Whitney. But he’s let out some funny remarks and it might be possible that someone has hurt his feelings. I’ve a sneaking notion that we ought not to tell him. I don’t know why, but I just feel it.”,

That night when Mother came into Johnny’s room to say good night, she found him wide awake. His eyes were big and earnest as he whispered, “Oh, Mother, it is wonderful to be heir of Kingthorpe.” And Johnny Blossom that night, for the first time in his life, prayed a prayer that he made himself, instead of repeating the Lord’s Prayer. He said:,

'One day, which it appears was the paroxysm of my disorder, I sunk in to a state of total torpidity, in which I lay for several hours. It is impossible to describe my feelings, when, on recovering, I found myself in this hideous abode. For some time I doubted my senses, and afterwards believed that I had quitted this world for another; but I was not long suffered to continue in my error, the appearance of the marquis bringing me to a perfect sense of my situation.

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“It’s been a cinch so far, but just wait. We’ve not started to get into trouble yet. We’ll get ours all right before we’re through.”,

“Yes, I tried once. I could do it well enough, too; but you should just see how cross that child is. She roars at nothing.”,

"It is to him I must go," said the Queen; "the fairies told me the evil, but they forgot to tell me the remedy.",

'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.'