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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"

"
"Well, Miriam it shall be," she repeated with laughing eyes (hers were
of that sort which close and grow Chinese under the pressure of
merriment and high cheekbones combined). "Miriam, I like the name--there
is something grand about it."
"But how shall we know where to find your friends when we get to port?"
asked my first attendant. "We _must_ know more than your Christian name
for such a purpose. You must place confidence in us, you must indeed!"
"Be patient with me," I entreated. "I am much too feeble yet to give you
the details that may be necessary. When we reach New York, you shall
know every thing: or is it, indeed, to that place this ship is bound?"
"I thought you knew all about your destination by this time," replied
Lady Anastasia Raymond. "Yes, yes, New York of course!" and again she
laughed. "Didn't you hear Clayton say so?"
Just then a sharp tap at the door was answered by Lady Anastasia, who
went quickly from beneath the curtain hung across it (in consideration,
no doubt, of the privacy my illness enjoined), but not before I had
caught once, and this time clearly, the tones of a voice that thrilled
to my life, the same that had haunted my delirious fancy, I now
remembered, through the last four-and-twenty hours.
I rose to my elbow impulsively, only to fall back again utterly
exhausted.


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