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From Jest to Earnest by Edward Payson Roe
page 62 of 522 (11%)
sudden echoes in the still house, and sounding as oddly as a bird's
song at night. "I'm glad Frank Hemstead doesn't know. If he did,
I should appall instead of fascinating him."

"I think your plot against him is very wrong,--wicked, indeed. He
is such a sincere, good young man, that I like it less and less.
I couldn't do such a thing."

"Still you can look on and enjoy the fun, and that is all you have
to do. Poor Bel, you are always in need of an M. D.'s or a D. D.'s
care. I have forsworn both."

So spoke Lottie in the arrogance of her perfect health and abounding
beauty, and then (such are the seeming contradictions of character)
she knelt and appeared as a white-robed saint at her devotions. But
the parrot-like prayer that she hastily mumbled was of no possible
value to any one. She had continued the habit from childhood,
and it was mainly habit. The other motive was something like the
feeling of a careless Catholic, who crosses himself, though he
cannot explain what good it does him.

A moment later she might have been taken as a model of sleeping
innocence.

This world is evidently sadly out of joint. We all know of the most
gentle, lovely, unselfish spirits, beautiful to Heaven's eye, that
are enshrined in painfully plain caskets. In the instance of Lottie
Marsden, the casket was of nature's most exquisite workmanship,
but it held a tarnished jewel.

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