You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will.
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