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Carleton, William, 1794-1869

"The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain The Works of William Carleton, Volume One"


She had already suffered too much, however, to allow herself to
be carried beyond unreasonable bounds by sanguine and imprudent
expectations. Her rule of heart and of conduct was simple, but true--she
trusted in God and in the justice of his providence.
On hearing the stranger's want of success, she felt more affected by
that than by the faint consolation which he endeavored to hold out to
her, and a few bitter tears ran slowly down her cheeks.
"Hope had altogether gone," said she, "and with hope that power in the
heart to cherish the sorrow which it sustains; and the certainty of his
death had thrown me into that apathy, which qualifies but cannot destroy
the painful consequences of reflection. That which presses upon me now,
is the fear that although he may still live, as unquestionably Corbet
on his death-bed had assured me, yet it is possible we may never recover
him. In that case he is dead to me--lost forever."
"I will not attempt to offer your ladyship consolation," replied the
stranger; "but I would suggest simply, that the dying words of your
steward, perhaps, may be looked upon as the first opening--the dawn of a
hopeful issue.


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