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While endeavoring to wear in public a cheerful face, I may perhaps now, and to so true a friend as yourself, show more of my real feelings. Is it too far would it take too long, to go to where my father died? His remains could not have been removed." "Alas, Miss Ludolph," said Dennis, very gently, "there can be no visible remains. Are you equal to the fatigue?"
He gladly availed himself of the permission, for he longed to be employed again. The clerks all welcomed him warmly, for his good-nature had disarmed jealousy at his rapid rise. But in the greeting of Mr. Ludolph he missed something of the cordiality he expected. "Perhaps she has told him," thought he; and at once his own manner became tinged with a certain coldness and dignity.
I am not sure the Bible is more than human in its character. I feel as if my feet stood out upon those shifting waves, and as if there were nothing certain or stable." "But in part you know the truth, Miss Ludolph, though you do not believe it, and I believe that the God of whom we have spoken can directly reveal Himself to you and make His truth as real to you as it is to me." "Mr.
"I am not going to thank the doctor, for I know what a bill is coming, so I will thank you. It was very kind of you to sit up the long night with me." Even Mr. Ludolph had to remember that he had in his anxiety thought as much of himself as of her. "Another lease of life," said Christine, dreamily looking into the future; "and, as I said last night, I mean to make the most of it."
She compressed her lips as she said, mentally: "Art is first, and these transient feelings are secondary. There is little in the world but that has cost some one deeply." She did not know how profound a truth this was. After a few moments Dennis said, in a tone that had a jealous tinge, "Miss Ludolph, your correspondent seems to interest you deeply."
Ludolph lighted a cigar and sat down to the evening paper, while his daughter evoked from the piano true after-dinner music light, brilliant, mirth-inspiring. Then both adjourned to their private billiard-room. The scene of our story now changes from Mr. Ludolph's luxurious apartments in one of the most fashionable hotels in the city to a forlorn attic in De Koven Street.
Schwartz's slow, plodding soul the fire of enthusiasm had never burned. He was eminently conservative, and looked with wary suspicion on anything that appeared like earnestness. In the midst of a driving, bustling Western city, he stuck in the mud of his German phlegm, like a snag in the swift current of the Mississippi. Yet Mr. Ludolph found him a most valuable assistant. He kept things straight.
My heart is breaking. Marguerite, Mr. Fleet is not dying a natural death; he has been slain. I understand all his manner now, all his desperate hard work. He loved one above him in wealth none could be above him in other respects and that one was Miss Ludolph. I suspected it, though till delirious, he scarcely ever mentioned her name.
Ludolph was much pleased with the proposition, and said, promptly, "You may try it, Fleet, and I will pay you accordingly. Do you know of a boy who will answer?" "I think I do, sir. There is a German lad in my mission class who has interested me very much.
Schwartz's bulky figure vanished from the doorway, Miss Ludolph caught the critical, intelligent gaze of Dennis Fleet, and the expression of her face changed instantly to a frown. But, to do her justice, it was more in vexation with herself than with him.
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