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Only when he had carried all his treasure to the door, did he realize that in all probability his work had been in vain.,Oh, Bob, Bob! And he, who was heir of Kingthorpe, had abused the little horse! What would Uncle Isaac say if he knew? And now he could never ride horseback any more! Oh—oh—oh! He must go home and tell Mother. It was dreadful to do it, but he must, he must.,“I hope so,” Bob answered. “Won’t you?”,CHAPTER IX,MASTER CAT;OR,PUSS IN BOOTS,'At the expiration of the year I received the veil. Oh! I well remember with what perfect resignation, with what comfortable complacency I took those vows which bound me to a life of retirement, and religious rest.,How could Mother know that anything was the matter? for he had just sat there stock still and had not said a single word!,The duke approached her with an air of proud condescension; and taking her hand, placed himself beside her. Having paid some formal and general compliments to her beauty, he proceeded to profess himself her admirer. She listened for some time to his professions, and when he appeared willing to hear her, she addressed him—'I am justly sensible, my lord, of the distinction you offer me, and must lament that respectful gratitude is the only sentiment I can return. Nothing can more strongly prove my confidence in your generosity, than when I confess to you, that parental authority urges me to give my hand whither my heart cannot accompany it.',“H’m—they are not bruised, these two.”,There was no time in which to gather his nerves together. He must act and act at once. So, pulling himself up with as little noise as possible, he peered over. No Miguel was in sight. But a hundred feet down the dam was a tiny thread of white smoke shining gray in the moonlight. With a despairing sob he leaped towards it as fast as his soaked clothes would let him.,The night passed without any disturbance. The morning arose fresh and bright; the Heavens exhibited a clear and unclouded concave; even the wild heath, refreshed by the late rains, smiled around, and sent up with the morning gale a stream of fragrance.,“There aren’t many persons with a sewed-on finger tip, are there, mother?” asked John, with some pride..