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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

'
She glanced proudly at him once more, as by an involuntary impulse, and
with a swelling breast rejoined, 'If what you say be true, he takes much
needless trouble, sir, to compass his design. He's very tender of my
peace of mind. I quite thank him.'
'The truth of what I tell you, dear young lady,' he replied, 'you will
test by the receipt or non-receipt of the letter of which I speak.
Haredale, my dear fellow, I am delighted to see you, although we meet
under singular circumstances, and upon a melancholy occasion. I hope you
are very well.'
At these words the young lady raised her eyes, which were filled with
tears; and seeing that her uncle indeed stood before them, and being
quite unequal to the trial of hearing or of speaking one word more,
hurriedly withdrew, and left them. They stood looking at each other, and
at her retreating figure, and for a long time neither of them spoke.
'What does this mean? Explain it,' said Mr Haredale at length. 'Why are
you here, and why with her?'
'My dear friend,' rejoined the other, resuming his accustomed manner
with infinite readiness, and throwing himself upon the bench with a
weary air, 'you told me not very long ago, at that delightful old
tavern of which you are the esteemed proprietor (and a most charming
establishment it is for persons of rural pursuits and in robust health,
who are not liable to take cold), that I had the head and heart of an
evil spirit in all matters of deception.


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