You cannot enter into my feelings; it makes my blood boil.

Oh, Miss Bruce! you can't conceive what a disinherited man feels--and I live at the very door: his old trees, that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over my little flower beds; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down on my cottage; his acres of lawn run up to my little garden, and nothing but a ha-ha between us." "It _is_ hard," said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered into a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe and please people.
"Hard!" cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy; "it would be unendurable but for one thing--I shall have my own some day." "I am glad of that," said the lady; "but how ?" "By outliving the wrongful heir." Miss Bruce turned pale.

She had little experience of men's passions.
"Oh, Mr.Bassett!" said she--and there was something pure and holy in the look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous speaker--"pray do not cherish such thoughts.

They will do you harm.

And remember life and death are not in our hands.