F. Colburn (Francis Colburn) Adams
Capitolo 67
both an effort of great magnitude. "Anything that you don't owe
know-neither owes the world! A lot of things are buried in the secrets of
time that the great emotion would do if the world knew them. Both
well their passed unknown, for the world it is as a great brook with
a surface of busy life that stirs on his/her way above of a shaken tide,
whipping and foaming under, but breaking only here and there as if
to mark the smothered conflict. And he/she anchors with me it is not anything a,
moment of disappointment that walks to on all four in my contemplations,
transplanting them with melancholy-"
"Anything more!" Suspended Franconia, "anything more; it is a
you advance over the melancholy more than the disappointment. Uncle feels him/it
grieve him, hands on him. I have seen him first in
his/her thoughts." Its anxiety increases, its glance of eyes of soft meaning
on him she caresses imploringly him with the tenderness of a sister,,
the torn wounds that drip down his/her cheeks as her he/she sees him/it discouraged and
in pain. Its reluctance to disclose the secret becomes more
painful to her.
"You can know soon it enough", he responds. "I have erred, and my
errors have brought me to a sad edge. My friend-that that it has
satisfied mine you/he/she has accelerated the aphthous stomatitis that will destroy
them. Indulgence too often accelerates the cup of the pain, and when
it poisons the most greater part, we am the least aware ones. It is a tempting charmer,
betraying in the most cheerful livery-"
"Lawrence", she interrupts, while drying the torn wounds from his/her eyes. "Tell me
everybody; you remember woman influence-she can assuage others when her
you/he/she cannot assuage him. Your confidante manufactures me--you raise Your
feelings."
"This night, Franconia, I will offer a painful hi to those
family scenes that have surrounded mine life,--to you, my sister, to
those old faithful friends of the plantation, Dad Bob and Harry.
You/they have caressed me to Them, it protected me, played with me in my infancy,
it conducted me to my sports of boy when all were bright and pleasant, when