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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"Love Me Little, Love Me Long"

" Eve sighed. "But if she is the
mercenary thing you take her for--if she owns to liking me, but
prefers money to love, then from that moment she is no more to me than
a picture or a statue, or any other lovely thing that has no soul."
With these determined words he gave his sister his arm, and walked
with her through the grounds to the road where her cousin was waiting
for her.

Lucy found Mrs. Wilson in the hall. "Come into the library, Mrs.
Wilson," said she; "I have only just heard you were here. Won't you
sit down? Are you not well, Mrs. Wilson? You tremble. You are
fatigued, I fear. Pray compose yourself. May I ring for a glass of
wine for you?"
"No, no, Miss Lucy," said the woman, smiling; "it is only along of you
coming to me so sudden, and you so grown. Eh! sure, can this fine
young lady be the little girl I held in my lap but t'other day, as it
seems?"
There was an agitation and ardor about Mrs. Wilson that, coupled with
the flaming bonnet, made Miss Fountain uneasy. She thought Mrs. Wilson
must be a little cracked, or at least flighty.
"Pray compose yourself, madam," said she, soothingly, but with that
dignity nobody could assume more readily than she could. "I dare say I
am much grown since I last had the pleasure of seeing you; but I have
not outgrown my memory, and I am happy to receive you, or any of our
old servants that knew my dear mother."
"Then I must not look for a welcome," said Mrs. Wilson, with feminine
logic, "for I was never your servant, nor your mamma's.


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