"
"There is something very beautiful, miss, in the attachment of Miss
Alice to Uncle Toney. The devotion to her on his part almost amounts to
adoration."
"My aunt, the mother of Alice, taught her this attachment. There is a
little history connected with it, and indeed, sir, all the family
remember his services to our grandfather in a most perilous moment; but
you must ask its narration from the old man. He loves to tell it. My
cousin's memory of her mother is the cherished of her heart. Indeed,
sir, that is a strong, deep heart. You may never know it; but should
you, you will remember that I told you there was but one Alice. In all
her feelings she is intense; her love is a flame--her hate a thorn; the
fragrance of the one is an incense--the piercing of the other is deep
and agonizing. Shan't we go in, sir; I see the damp of the dew is on
your boot-toe, and you have been ill. The absence of the sun is the
hour for pestilence to ride the breeze in our climate, and you cannot
claim to be fully acclimated."
The autumn progressed, and the rich harvests were being gathered and
garnered.
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