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 of a noble, honest gentleman, the joy of raising him from penury."

"Oh, say no more," cries she, in passion. "I know not what madness possessed me to overlook such consequences. I kiss you for bringing me to my senses" (with that she catches up my hand and presses her lips to it again and again). "Look in my face," cries she, "and if you find a lurking vestige of irresolution there, I'll tear it out."

Indeed, I could see nothing but set determination in her countenance,—a most hard expression of fixed resolve, that seemed to age her by ten years, astonishing me not less than those other phases in her rapidly developing character.

"Now," says she, quickly, and with not a note of her repining tone, "what was that you spoke of lately,—you are to be our steward?"

"Yes," says I, "for Mr. Godwin has declared most firmly that the moment he has authority he will cast Simon out for his disloyalty."

"I will not leave that ungrateful duty to him," says she. "Take me to this wretch at once, and choose the shortest path."

I led her back across the common, and coming to Simon's lodge, she herself knocked loudly at the door. Seeing who it was through his little grating, Simon quickly opens the door, and with fawning humility entreats her to step into his poor room, and there he stands, cringing and mopping his eyes, in dreadful apprehension, as having doubtless gathered from some about the house how matters stood betwixt Moll and Mr. Godwin.

"Where are your keys?" demands Moll, in a very hard, merciless voice.