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Again he looked up at the windows, this time beseechingly. The storm within his heart became more violent. For a long time he ran through the streets, and reached home at last along toward five o’clock. As he passed through the dark hall, he saw a light up on the landing. Meta was carrying it. She was already stirring about, ready to begin her morning’s work.
There were snow-covered peaks on either hand, and so they hurried onwards, although they had already done a long morning’s march. Five miles farther they halted in a wood, and although they had already made a descent of some thousand feet they were glad to light a fire. On the following day they halted early at a solitary hut standing at the junction of two roads.
Taggart made no answer save by taking a pinch of snuff. The reader, has, I hope, not forgotten Taggart, whom I mentioned whilst giving an account of my first morning’s visit to the publisher. I beg Taggart’s pardon for having been so long silent about him; but he was a very silent man—yet there was much in Taggart—and Taggart had always been civil and kind to me in his peculiar way.
O my God, aid Thou Thy servant to raise up the Word, and to refute what is vain and false, to establish the truth, to spread the sacred verses abroad, reveal the splendours, and make the morning’s light to dawn in the hearts of the righteous. Thou art verily the Generous, the Forgiving. O phoenix of that immortal flame kindled in the sacred Tree!
And the anxious father did try to deceive himself into the belief that Fanny was better, but when each morning’s light revealed some fresh ravage the disease had made—when the flush on her cheek grew deeper and the light of her eye wilder and more startling, an agonized fear held the old man’s heart in thrall. Many and many a weary night found him sleepless, as he wet his pillow with tears.
One morning I arose somewhat later than usual, having been occupied during the greater part of the night with my literary toil. On descending from my chamber into the sitting-room I found a person seated by the fire, whose glance was directed sideways to the table, on which were the usual preparations for my morning’s meal.
I got to his place at eight, and he told me that I had better start by this morning’s coach, as he knew that you were anxious to see me.” “He didn’t tell you what for, Stephen?” “No, sir. He said that he thought that you would prefer to tell me yourself.” “Well, Stephen, I have been anxious for you to get home, for I had a letter from Lord Cochrane about three weeks ago.
Later in the day a compatriot, inspired doubtless by the morning’s experiment, confided to me that he had hit on “a great scheme,” which he intends to develop on arriving. Ships provided with the parent fish can free one every twenty-four hours, charged with the morning’s mail.
There was one little dirty-faced man in a blue apron, who after a whole morning’s search, extending some fifty years back, had just found the will to which he wished to refer, which one of the officials was reading to him in a low hurried voice from a thick vellum book with large clasps.
The sharp click of spoons and dishes, the voices of the maids, the sizzle, sputter, odor of frying ham and eggs, mingled with the early chorus of the birds, and calling to life of all living creatures, like an intrusion upon nature. It seemed not right to steal the morning’s “quiet hour” thus rudely.
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