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The books he has read, the people he has met, the companions he keeps, the influences that have played upon him and made him the man he is these are all registered there by a pen which lets nothing pass, and whose writing can Never be blotted out. What I am reading in him meantime he is also reading in me; and before the journey is over we could half write each other's lives.

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett plucked up courage and said, "Charles, I am not quite happy. There is one thing wanting." And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. "I cannot nurse him."

A secret like that of David and Hylda will do in a day what a score of years could not accomplish, will insinuate confidences which might never be given to the nearest or dearest. In neither was any feeling of the heart begotten by their experiences; and yet they had gone deeper in each other's lives than any one either had known in a lifetime.

I became very much concerned to prevent anything of the sort. I heard the other's soothing undertone. "My father's a parson in Norfolk," it said. Evidently he had forgotten he had told me this important fact before. Truly a nice little tale. "You had better slip down into my stateroom now," I said, moving off stealthily.

I heard further accusations, and among them the plaintive voice of Marie begging of me not to believe what they said. The women caught each other by the hair, and tore at each other's faces, and Marie raised herself up in bed and implored them to cease; and then she fell back crying.

They recoiled from the proposition a moment, but, being pushed together by their respective friends from behind, took each other's right hand, shook it once feebly, and said distinctly, with their eyes, "We shall meet again!" "Very well done," said Mrs. Slapman, with the air of an empress, tempered by a charming smile. "And let us hope that is the end of it. Now, Mr.

We did not speak, but in that great half-hour we glanced shyly at each other, and shyly avoided or as shyly returned and met each other's glances more than several times. She had a slender oval face. Her brown eyes were beautiful. Her nose was a dream, as was her sweet-lipped, petulant-hinting mouth.

Ambulinia, who sat in the parlor alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near, ventured to the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as they caught each other's looks the light of peace beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia.

Madam, said I, wisdom is the abstract of the past, but beauty is the promise of the future. All this, however, is not what I was going to say. Here am I, suppose, seated we will say at a dinner-table alongside of an intelligent Englishman. We look in each other's faces, we exchange a dozen words.

"Mother dear! ... it's been so ... enjoyable being with you!" Mrs. Melville made a pleased noise, and by a weary nod of the head made it understood that she would prefer not to speak again; but her hand, which was in Ellen's, patted it. All through the night that followed they pressed each other's hands, and spoke. "Are you dead?"