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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

'If any man believes--presumes to think--that I, in
word or deed, or in the wildest dream, ever entertained remotely the
idea of Emma Haredale's favouring the suit of any one who was akin to
you--in any way--I care not what--he lies. He lies, and does me grievous
wrong, in the mere thought.'
'Haredale,' returned the other, rocking himself to and fro as in assent,
and nodding at the fire, 'it's extremely manly, and really very generous
in you, to meet me in this unreserved and handsome way. Upon my word,
those are exactly my sentiments, only expressed with much more force and
power than I could use--you know my sluggish nature, and will forgive
me, I am sure.'
'While I would restrain her from all correspondence with your son, and
sever their intercourse here, though it should cause her death,' said
Mr Haredale, who had been pacing to and fro, 'I would do it kindly and
tenderly if I can. I have a trust to discharge, which my nature is not
formed to understand, and, for this reason, the bare fact of there
being any love between them comes upon me to-night, almost for the first
time.'
'I am more delighted than I can possibly tell you,' rejoined Mr Chester
with the utmost blandness, 'to find my own impression so confirmed.


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