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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"


Lucy came to the table, and, standing close behind David--so close
that he felt her pure cool breath mingle with his hair, said to her
uncle: "Mr. Talboys proposes to me to ride the first stage to-morrow;
if I do, you must be of the party."
"Oh, must I? Well, I'll roll after you in my phaeton."
At this moment Eve could bear no longer the anguish on David's beloved
face. It made her hysterical. She could hardly command herself. She
rose hastily, and saying, "We must not keep you up the night before a
journey," took leave with David. As he shook hands with Lucy, his
imploring eye turned full on hers, and sought to dive into her heart.
But that soft sapphire eye was unfathomable. It was like those dark
blue southern waters that seem to reveal all, yet hide all, so deep
they are, though clear.

Eve. "Thank Heaven, we are safe out of the house."
David. "I have got a rival."
Eve. "A pretty rival; she doesn't care a button for him."
David. "He rides the first stage with her."
Eve. "Well, what of that?"
David. "I have got a rival."

David was none of your lie-a-beds. He rose at five in summer, six in
winter, and studied hard till breakfast time; after that he was at
every fool's service. This morning he did not appear at the breakfast
table, and the servant had not seen him about. Eve ran upstairs full
of anxiety. He was not in his room. The bed had not been slept in; the
impress of his body outside showed, however, that he had flung himself
down on it to snatch an uneasy slumber.


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