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Paul Faber, Surgeon by George MacDonald
page 335 of 555 (60%)
"Of course I should," he answered, with almost irritated haste, "--that
is, if I could ever bring myself to allow any thing you did was wrong.
Only, you would witch me out of opinion and judgment and every thing
else with two words from your dear lips."

"Should I, Paul?" she said; and lifting her face from his shoulder, she
looked up in his from the depths of two dark fountains full of tears.
Never does the soul so nearly identify itself with matter as when
revealing itself through the eyes; never does matter so nearly lose
itself in spiritual absorption, as when two eyes like Juliet's are
possessed and glorified by the rush of the soul through their portals.
Faber kissed eyes and lips and neck in a glow of delight. She was the
vision of a most blessed dream, and she was his, all and altogether his!
He never thought then how his own uncreed and the prayer-book were of
the same mind that Death would one day part them. There is that in every
high and simple feeling that stamps it with eternity. For my own part I
believe that, if life has not long before twinned any twain, Death can
do nothing to divide them. The nature of each and every pure feeling,
even in the man who may sin away the very memory of it, is immortal; and
who knows from under what a depth of ashes the love of the saving God
may yet revive it!

The next moment the doctor was summoned. When he returned, Juliet was in
bed, and pretended to be asleep.

In the morning she appeared at the breakfast table so pale, so worn, so
troubled, that her husband was quite anxious about her. All she would
confess to was, that she had not slept well, and had a headache.
Attributing her condition to a nervous attack, he gave her some
medicine, took her to the drawing-room, and prescribed the new piano,
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