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r if it be; it has put on the robes of an angel of light。 I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart。”
“Distrust it; sir; it is not a true angel。”
“Once more; how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne—between a guide and a seducer?”
“I judged by your countenance; sir; which was troubled when you said the suggestion had returned upon you。 I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it。”
“Not at all—it bears the most gracious message in the world: for the rest; you are not my conscience…keeper; so don’t make yourself uneasy。 Here; e in; bonny wanderer!”
He said this as if he spoke to a vision; viewless to any eye but his own; then; folding his arms; which he had half extended; on his chest; he seemed to enclose in their embrace the invisible being。
“Now;” he continued; again addressing me; “I have received the pilgrim—a disguised deity; as I verify believe。 Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine。”
“To speak truth; sir; I don’t understand you at all: I cannot keep up the conversation; because it has got out of my depth。 Only one thing; I know: you said you were not as good as you should like to be; and that you regretted your own imperfection;—one thing I can prehend: you intimated that to have a sullied memory was a perpetual bane。 It seems to me
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