I
know I am undeserving of your bounty; but if I were to tell you what hardships I
have undergone—to what frightful extremities I have been reduced—and to
what infamy I have submitted, to earn a scanty subsistence for this child's sake,
—if you could feel what it is to stand alone in the world as I do, bereft of all who
have ever loved me, and shunned by all who have ever known me, except the
worthless and the wretched,—if you knew (and Heaven grant you may be spared
the knowledge!) how much affliction sharpens love, and how much more dear to
me my child has become for every sacrifice I have made for him,—if you were
told all this, you would, I am sure, pity rather than reproach me, because I cannot
at once consent to a separation, which I feel would break my heart. “How are those books any different from the
witchcraft books?”
“I dunno. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s
many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that
surveyed its operations. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. “Annabel,
I begin to see why you are here. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose
loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer
refuse me. And now I find, when it is too late,
that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. He was always word-building, a
metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion
because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.
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