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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 5, No. 28, February, 1860"

"
Next day, no Rose; it rained. But at night he came and took possession
of the room, with a strange, airy gayety never seen in him before. It
was so chilly, that I had heaped the wood-boughs, used in the
yesterday's decorations, on the hearth, and lighted a fragrant crackling
flame that danced up wildly at my touch,--for I have the faculty of
fire. I sat at one side, Lu at the other, papa was holding a skein of
silk for her to wind, the amber beads were twinkling in the
firelight,--and when she slipped them slowly on the thread, bead after
bead, warmed through and through by the real blaze, they crowded the
room afresh with their pungent spiciness. Papa had called Rose to take
his place at the other end of the silk, and had gone out; and when Lu
finished, she fastened the ends, cut the thread, Rose likening her to
Atropos, and put them back into her basket. Still playing with the
scissors, following down the lines of her hand, a little snap was heard.
"Oh!" said Louise, "I have broken my ring!"
"Can't it be repaired?" I asked.


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