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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

I have often told you,
you should return here. You would be happier here than elsewhere, I
know. As to Barnaby, it's quite his home.'
'And Grip's,' said Barnaby, holding the basket open. The raven hopped
gravely out, and perching on his shoulder and addressing himself to Mr
Haredale, cried--as a hint, perhaps, that some temperate refreshment
would be acceptable--'Polly put the ket-tle on, we'll all have tea!'
'Hear me, Mary,' said Mr Haredale kindly, as he motioned her to walk
with him towards the house. 'Your life has been an example of patience
and fortitude, except in this one particular which has often given me
great pain. It is enough to know that you were cruelly involved in the
calamity which deprived me of an only brother, and Emma of her father,
without being obliged to suppose (as I sometimes am) that you associate
us with the author of our joint misfortunes.'
'Associate you with him, sir!' she cried.
'Indeed,' said Mr Haredale, 'I think you do. I almost believe that
because your husband was bound by so many ties to our relation, and died
in his service and defence, you have come in some sort to connect us
with his murder.'
'Alas!' she answered.


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