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Letter, 2 June 1859, pages 6-8 (Transcriptions Done!)
Grass Valley -- 2 June 1859 - 8.jpeg
| Revision as of Mar 30, 2020, 1:57:39 PM created by 162.241.224.107 |
Revision as of Mar 31, 2020, 11:55:58 AM edited by 162.241.224.107 |
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| − | + | <q>Never, Sir., never,</q> anything rather than perjury of soul and body. I can never love you. Let this suffice; my will is fixed; yes, any misery, even to desolation, before I lie against God and my love. Do you understand me W. Nalford (the gentlemans [sic] name). I will speak more plainly. You have often heard W. Forrester's name in my uncle's family. I have loved him from a child. <u>No other man can become my husband</u>! | |
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| + | Winter had set in once more, and Milicent had arrived one morning, weary and ill, at the house of one of her pupils. The young lady was not ready and the teacher sat down at the piano to wait. While thus sitting her eyes fell upon a letter lying on the table (it had been purposely put there at W. F.'s request, to observe the effect it would have upon Milicent, who<s>m</s> was well acquainted with his handwriting). The moment she saw it, the blood rushed to her pale cheeks, and her pulse beat with a passionate force long since subdued, she had thought, - she held that letter in her hand, her eyes devouring the cover and burning with an almost uncontrollable desire to | ||
Revision as of Mar 31, 2020, 11:55:58 AM
FINISHED
heart.-
Never, Sir., never,
anything rather than perjury of soul and body. I can never love you. Let this suffice; my will is fixed; yes, any misery, even to desolation, before I lie against God and my love. Do you understand me W. Nalford (the gentlemans [sic] name). I will speak more plainly. You have often heard W. Forrester's name in my uncle's family. I have loved him from a child. No other man can become my husband!
Winter had set in once more, and Milicent had arrived one morning, weary and ill, at the house of one of her pupils. The young lady was not ready and the teacher sat down at the piano to wait. While thus sitting her eyes fell upon a letter lying on the table (it had been purposely put there at W. F.'s request, to observe the effect it would have upon Milicent, whom was well acquainted with his handwriting). The moment she saw it, the blood rushed to her pale cheeks, and her pulse beat with a passionate force long since subdued, she had thought, - she held that letter in her hand, her eyes devouring the cover and burning with an almost uncontrollable desire to