And there are other guides. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation.
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