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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"

Thank God! let us both thank God, Evelyn, from our inmost
hearts, that we still have this shelter--and--yes--I have reason to
believe, much more."
And, kneeling beside her bed, I told her impulsively of our concealed
treasure behind the mirror (though I had once determined never to reveal
this to her or any one)--treasure guarded so long by me with bolt by
night and vigilance by day!
Oh, fatal error, never to be repaired or sufficiently repented of! Oh,
utter misplacement of confidence, not warranted, surely, by any thing
that had gone before, and the results of which I had subsequently such
bitter cause to deplore!
She listened to me with an interest and zeal that were unmistakable. She
sat up in her bed, with her large, blue, distended eyes fixed on mine,
turning paler and paler, brighter and brighter, as she gazed, until
their lustre seemed opaline rather than spiritual, and with her slender
white hands wreathed together like the interlacing marble snakes in the
grasp of the Laocoon, so long, and lithe, and sinuous, seemed the
polished, flexile fingers. Her lips were livid, but on her cheek burned
two flame-like spots, indicative ever with her of intense excitement.
Surely the god Mammon has rarely possessed so sincere a worshiper! Let
us do her this justice, at least. So far she was consistent; so far she
was devout!'
"You are sure of the truth of what you utter, Miriam?" she questioned,
eagerly.


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