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158 settles on features, that were harsh to us while the sun shone; a mellow "light of love" reposes on the complexion, which by day we would have steeped "full fathom five" in a sea of Mrs. Gowland's lotion;—and as for the lip!—Ah!

What then, thou modest hypocrite, to those who already and deeply love—what then of danger—and of paradise dost thou bring?

Silent, and stilling the breath which heaved in both quick and fitfully, Lucy and Clifford sat together. The streets were utterly deserted, and the loneliness, as they looked below, made them feel the more intensely not only the emotions which swelled within them, but the undefined and electric sympathy which, in uniting them, divided them from the world. The quiet around was broken by a distant strain of rude music; and as it came nearer, two forms, of no poetical order, grew visible: the one was a poor blind man, who was