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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 117 pages of information about The Man of Feeling.
Mrs. Margery accompanied me to the door.  He was left with Miss Walton alone.  She inquired anxiously about his health.  “I believe,” said he, “from the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have no great hopes of my recovery."- -She started as he spoke; but recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions were groundless.  “I know,” said he, “that it is usual with persons at my time of life to have these hopes, which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be deceived.  To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege bestowed on few.—­I would endeavour to make it mine;—­ nor do I think that I can ever be better prepared for it than now:  — -It is that chiefly which determines the fitness of its approach.”  “Those sentiments,” answered Miss Walton, “are just; but your good sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value.—­As the province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired.- -To virtue has the Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards enough even here to fix its attachment.”

The subject began to overpower her.—­Harley lifted his eyes from the ground—­“There are,” said he, in a very low voice, “there are attachments, Miss Walton”—­His glance met hers.—­They both betrayed a confusion, and were both instantly withdrawn.—­He paused some moments—­“I am such a state as calls for sincerity, let that also excuse it—­It is perhaps the last time we shall ever meet.  I feel something particularly solemn in the acknowledgment, yet my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of my presumption, by a sense of your perfections”—­He paused again—­“Let it not offend you, to know their power over one so unworthy—­It will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose the latest.—­To love Miss Walton could not be a crime;—­if to declare it is one—­the expiation will be made.”—­Her tears were now flowing without control.—­“Let me intreat you,” said she, “to have better hopes—­Let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can put any value on it—­I will not pretend to misunderstand you—­I know your worth—­I have known it long—­I have esteemed it—­What would you have me say?—­I have loved it as it deserved.”—­He seized her hand—­ a languid colour reddened his cheek—­a smile brightened faintly in his eye.  As he gazed on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closed—­He sighed and fell back on his seat—­Miss Walton screamed at the sight--His aunt and the servants rushed into the room—­They found them lying motionless together.—­His physician happened to call at that instant.  Every art was tried to recover them—­With Miss Walton they succeeded—­But Harley was gone for ever.

CHAPTER LVI—­THE EMOTIONS OF THE HEART

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