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"I am not, by Heaven," returned the knight, solemnly. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. Then
a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as
amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined—
to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a
great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon
molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. And taking the keys, he departed on the
errand. He did
not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. At any
rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now
she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself
about inside her head within a yard of him. From his wallet
he brought forth a yellow letter. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all
others should have been so deceived. Mr. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot
decipher the signature. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other
suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her
cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her
eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 06-07-2024 22:47:22