Frederick Marryat,
Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval Officer
“ Mr Somerville and Emily were both there. He was reading aloud; she sat at a table with a book before her: but her thoughts, it was evident, were not there; she had inserted her taper fingers into the ringlets of her hair, until the palms of her hand reached her forehead; then, bending her head towards the table, she leaned on her elbows, and seemed absorbed in the most melancholy reflections.“This, too, is my work,” said I; “this fair flower is blighted, and withering by the contagious touch of my baneful hand! Good Heaven! what a wretch am I! whoever loves me is rewarded by misery. ”
