Mr.Charles Holland, if you wed, you would look forward to being blessed with children--those sweet ties which bind the sternest hearts to life with so exquisite a bondage.

Oh, fancy, then, for a moment, the mother of your babes coming at the still hour of midnight to drain from their veins the very life blood she gave to them.
To drive you and them mad with the expected horror of such visitations--to make your nights hideous--your days but so many hours of melancholy retrospection.

Oh, you know not the world of terror, on the awful brink of which you stand, when you talk of making Flora Bannerworth a wife." "Peace! oh, peace!" said Henry.
"Nay, I know my words are unwelcome," continued Mr.Marchdale.

"It happens, unfortunately for human nature, that truth and some of our best and holiest feelings are too often at variance, and hold a sad contest--" "I will hear no more of this," cried Charles Holland.--"I will hear no more." "I have done," said Mr.Marchdale.
"And 'twere well you had not begun." "Nay, say not so.

I have but done what I considered was a solemn duty." "Under that assumption of doing duty--a solemn duty--heedless of the feelings and the opinions of others," said Charles, sarcastically, "more mischief is produced--more heart-burnings and anxieties caused, than by any other two causes of such mischievous results combined.