The Ogilvies: NovelHarper & Brothers, 1850 - 140 pages |
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Page 7
... beautiful poet - soul , now gone from earth , a sensation very like that love of which she had read , that strange , delicious secret which was to her as yet only a name . And thus , half a woman and half a child , Katharine Ogilvie was ...
... beautiful poet - soul , now gone from earth , a sensation very like that love of which she had read , that strange , delicious secret which was to her as yet only a name . And thus , half a woman and half a child , Katharine Ogilvie was ...
Page 9
... ; to others , of gall . Lynedon still kept close to the harp , until a lady sat down to play and sing . Her voice was touching and beautiful , and its pathos stilled " I am very sorry , but I did not THE OGILVIES . 9.
... ; to others , of gall . Lynedon still kept close to the harp , until a lady sat down to play and sing . Her voice was touching and beautiful , and its pathos stilled " I am very sorry , but I did not THE OGILVIES . 9.
Page 10
... beautiful . As they passed , Katharine heard him say , in answer to some remark of hers- " Yes , it gave me pleasure . It is a dear , old song to me . I had a little sister who used to sing it once ; she had a sweet voice , very like ...
... beautiful . As they passed , Katharine heard him say , in answer to some remark of hers- " Yes , it gave me pleasure . It is a dear , old song to me . I had a little sister who used to sing it once ; she had a sweet voice , very like ...
Page 13
... beautiful hair ; " but I am quite at your service , Mrs. Lancas- ter , for this visit . " " Then it is agreed upon ; Julian , my love , put it down in my visiting - book , that we may not Katharine , in the depth of her heart , did not ...
... beautiful hair ; " but I am quite at your service , Mrs. Lancas- ter , for this visit . " " Then it is agreed upon ; Julian , my love , put it down in my visiting - book , that we may not Katharine , in the depth of her heart , did not ...
Page 16
... beautiful soul shone through it , and therefore it became itself beautiful ; not that it was without a certain grace of form , but still that was subservient to the higher quality of expression , without which , features as perfect as ...
... beautiful soul shone through it , and therefore it became itself beautiful ; not that it was without a certain grace of form , but still that was subservient to the higher quality of expression , without which , features as perfect as ...
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Common terms and phrases
answered arine beautiful blessed Breynton Brown Bess calm cheek child cousin cried dare dear Katharine door dream Drysdale dull Elea Eleanor Ogilvie eyes face fancy father feel felt fingers forgive gaze gentle girl glad hand happy head heard heart heaven hope Hugh Hugh's husband Isabella James Ogilvie Kath Katharine Ogilvie Katharine's knew Lady Ogilvie Lancaster laugh Leigh letter light lips live look lover Lyne marriage marry mind Miss Ogilvie mother murmured ness never night Ogilvie's once pain passed passion Paul Lynedon Pennythorne perhaps PHILIP BAILEY Philip Wychnor pleasure poor quiet remember Robert Ogilvie seemed shadow silence smile solemn sorrow soul speak spoke stood storm of passion strange suffering Summerwood sure sweet talk tears tell tender thing thought tone trembled turned utter voice walk wife wish woman words young
Popular passages
Page 76 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 11 - Love took up the glass of time, and turned it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
Page 39 - Ah ! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, Or the death they bear, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care ; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Shall mine cling to thee, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, It may bring to thee.
Page 63 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Page 35 - PASSIONS are likened best to floods and streams, The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb. So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come They that are rich in words must needs discover, They are but poor in that which makes a lover.
Page 63 - Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't.
Page 31 - Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells, And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear The windy clanging of the minster clock ; Although between it and the garden lies A league of grass, wash'd by a slow broad stream.
Page 49 - Overlive it — lower yet — be happy! wherefore should I care? I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by despair. What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these? Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to golden keys.
Page 14 - ... grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south ! oh still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks, And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh ; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
Page 107 - BETTER trust all and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart that, if believed, Had blessed one's life with true believing. Oh, in this mocking world, too fast The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth; Better be cheated to the last Than lose the blessed hope of truth.