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Warfield, Catherine A.

"Miriam Monfort A Novel"


I saw the kindly master of the emporium turn away, either to conceal his
own emotion or his observation of mine, and Caleb stood trembling and
crying like a girl before me.
I had shrunk, it may be remembered, from the description Sabra gave me
of McDermot, when I heard of his red hair and "chaney-blue eyes;" but to
this red-haired, hazel-eyed man I yearned instinctively, for there are
moral differences discernible in the temperament greater than any other,
and, when a red-haired man is tender-hearted, he usually usurps the
womanly prerogative, and gushes.
But Caleb's sympathy touched me even more.
"We will go now, if you please," I said, recovering myself by a strong
effort, and Napoleon B. Burress mutely tendered me his stout,
overcoated arm. "The short way you mentioned--let us go that way, if not
disagreeable to you," I pleaded.
"Oh, no; it will be an absolute saving of time to me; but, I warn you,
the alley is narrow and dark!"
"Never mind; I prefer the short cut, be it what it may. Time is every
thing to me."
We passed through the shop, threaded a narrow entry, opened a back-door,
which gave upon a strip of paved yard, leading in turn to a back-gate,
through which we emerged into a dark and dirty-looking alley.
But first the work of unlocking a padlock, which confined a chain, had
to be effected, and, while Mr.


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