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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Hush! I say no more.'
Having said that much, he beckoned the visitor with a mysterious aspect
to follow him to the parlour-door, where he announced him in the voice
of a gentleman-usher. 'Mr Chester.'
'And not Mr Ed'dard, mind,' said Sim, looking into the door again, and
adding this by way of postscript in his own person; 'it's his father.'
'But do not let his father,' said Mr Chester, advancing hat in hand, as
he observed the effect of this last explanatory announcement, 'do not
let his father be any check or restraint on your domestic occupations,
Miss Varden.'
'Oh! Now! There! An't I always a-saying it!' exclaimed Miggs, clapping
her hands. 'If he an't been and took Missis for her own daughter. Well,
she DO look like it, that she do. Only think of that, mim!'
'Is it possible,' said Mr Chester in his softest tones, 'that this is
Mrs Varden! I am amazed. That is not your daughter, Mrs Varden? No, no.
Your sister.'
'My daughter, indeed, sir,' returned Mrs V., blushing with great
juvenility.
'Ah, Mrs Varden!' cried the visitor. 'Ah, ma'am--humanity is indeed a
happy lot, when we can repeat ourselves in others, and still be young
as they. You must allow me to salute you--the custom of the country, my
dear madam--your daughter too.


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