Eva; or, The bridal spectre [by mrs. W. Johnson].G. Virtue, 1830 - 309 |
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Strona 193
... Bouverie , for that was her name ; “ her superior learning , and her having of late , it seems , indulged in a propensity she had of watch- ing the stars , must have given rise to this evil report . " " I never spoke to her , " said ...
... Bouverie , for that was her name ; “ her superior learning , and her having of late , it seems , indulged in a propensity she had of watch- ing the stars , must have given rise to this evil report . " " I never spoke to her , " said ...
Strona 194
... Bouverie produced the letter in proof of her assertion . It was written by a lady of the name of Ford , with whom Roselma had been slightly acquainted . " Mrs. Ford's successor was a stranger to me , ” con- tinued Mrs. Bouverie , " and ...
... Bouverie produced the letter in proof of her assertion . It was written by a lady of the name of Ford , with whom Roselma had been slightly acquainted . " Mrs. Ford's successor was a stranger to me , ” con- tinued Mrs. Bouverie , " and ...
Strona 195
... Bouverie , nor did this feeling tend to raise her spirits , which were extremely depressed , for her father's death pressed heavily upon her mind . Hers was not a sorrow venting itself in tears and lamentations , but a slow , consuming ...
... Bouverie , nor did this feeling tend to raise her spirits , which were extremely depressed , for her father's death pressed heavily upon her mind . Hers was not a sorrow venting itself in tears and lamentations , but a slow , consuming ...
Strona 201
... Bouverie with grief , who was now at Engleton House , she having been conveyed thither in a carriage , with Marian , Roselma's maid . Roselma requested she would impart some particulars relative to her own and her unfortunate mother's ...
... Bouverie with grief , who was now at Engleton House , she having been conveyed thither in a carriage , with Marian , Roselma's maid . Roselma requested she would impart some particulars relative to her own and her unfortunate mother's ...
Strona 204
... Bouverie that I had ought to have done for one with whom I was to spend my days , I had no dislike to him , but I feared from his conversa- tion , that he possessed but a narrow and selfish heart . This to me , who had been brought up ...
... Bouverie that I had ought to have done for one with whom I was to spend my days , I had no dislike to him , but I feared from his conversa- tion , that he possessed but a narrow and selfish heart . This to me , who had been brought up ...
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Adrian Agnes Barnedo beheld Belmont House blood bosom Bouverie caused chamber chapel child corpse cottage countenance cried dark daughter death Deloraine Castle door dreadful east wing endeavoured Engleton House enquired entered Evadne eyes fate Father Athanasius fear garden grief grieved hand hastened hath heard heart Heaven Holy Land hour Jabeth Jesse knew Lady Deloraine Lady Mildmay Lady Roselma ladyship Laura leave lest Lincolnshire little Eva looked Mandeville marriage Matthias mind monk Athanasius Monteith morning mother Nabal never night pale passed person poor Rachel Ramsbottom recollected replied Sir ruffian Saint Peter seemed sell this house servant Sir Edmund Sir Edward Seymour Sir Eldred Sir James Sir Marmaduke Sir Ralph Sir Raymond Somerton soon sorrow spectre spirits stood tears thee thou thought uncle vault Vipond voice walked west wing whilst window wish woman words young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 5 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Strona 202 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.
Strona 74 - Where the great Sun begins his state, Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight, While the ploughman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strona 211 - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
Strona 48 - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Strona 59 - Guilt is the source of sorrow ! 'tis the fiend, The avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings. The blest know none of this, But rest in everlasting peace of mind, And find the height of all their heaven is goodness.
Strona 74 - Through the high wood echoing shrill. Sometime walking, not unseen, By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state...
Strona 26 - ... destroy the births of women, and the increase of cattle ; they blast the corn on the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, the grass and herbs of the field.
Strona 108 - But see, the setting Sun Puts on a milder countenance, and skirts The undulated clouds, that cross his way, With glory visible. His axle cools, And his broad disk, though fervent, not intense, Foretells the near approach of matron night. Ye fair, retreat ! Your drooping flowers need Wholesome refreshment. Down the hedge-row path We hasten home, and only slack our speed To gaze a moment at th' accustom'd gap, That all so unexpectedly presents The clear cerulean prospect down the vale.
Strona 284 - I have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes Which sting the heart of man and find none equal. It is the hydra of calamities, The sevenfold death; the jealous are the damn'd. Oh jealousy, each other passion's calm 80 To thee, thou conflagration of the soul! Thou king of torments! Thou grand counterpoise For all the transports beauty can inspire!