Pierre; or The Ambiguities

"Nay, Pierre, that is my office; thou art first entitled to my tale,

No, I shall not, I will not implore thee.—Oh, my brother, my dear, dear Pierre,—help me, fly to me;

Pierre shrank abhorringly from the infernal catacombs of thought, down into which, this fœtal fancy beckoned him.

Pierre now seemed distinctly to feel two antagonistic agencies within him; one of which was just struggling into his consciousness, and each of which was striving for the mastery;

"How strange," said little Pierre, "I think it begins to look at me now, aunt. Hark! aunt, it's so silent all round in this old-fashioned room, that I think I hear a little jingling in the picture, as if the watch-seal was striking against the key—Hark! aunt." "Bless me, don't talk so strangely, my child."

"for you and me, you see, mother; for you and me, you understand that, I hope." "Perfectly, my dear brother." Lucy blushed.

deeper down in the more secret chambers of his unsuspecting soul, the smiling Lucy, now as dead and ashy pale, was being bound a ransom for Isabel's salvation.

"Ah! how dost thou change, Agnello! See! thou art not double now, Nor only one!"

obscure point of this ridge rested on a second lengthwise-sharpened rock, slightly protruding from the ground. Beside that one obscure and minute point of contact, the whole enormous and most ponderous mass touched not another object in the wide terraqueous world. It was a breathless thing to see.