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 "Not precisely, but as near as may be: they are rather alike."

"I will know the name—I will have particulars."

"They positively are rather alike; their very faces are not dissimilar—a pair of human falcons—and dry, direct, decided both. But my hero is the mightier of the two: his mind has the clearness of the deep sea, the patience of its rocks, the force of its billows."

"Rant and fustian!"

"I daresay he can be harsh as a saw-edge, and gruff as a hungry raven."

"Miss Keeldar, does the person reside in Briarfield? answer me that."

"Uncle—I am going to tell you—his name is trembling on my tongue."

"Speak, girl!"

"That was well said, uncle. 'Speak, girl!' it is quite tragic. England has howled savagely against this man, uncle; and she will one day roar exultingly over him. He has been unscared by the howl, and he will be unelated by the shout."

"I said she was mad—she is."

"This country will change and change again in her demeanour to him: he will never change in his duty to her. Come, cease to chafe, uncle, I'll tell you his name."

"You shall tell me, or"

"Listen! Arthur Wellesley, Lord Wellington."

Mr. Sympson rose up furious: he bounced out of the room, but immediately bounced back again, shut the door, and resumed his seat.