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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

The saint may have to be saved from more than sin.
"When shall we be married?" asked Donal.
"Soon, soon," answered Arctura.
"To-morrow then?"
"No, not to-morrow: there is no such haste--now that we understand
each other," she added with a rosy smile. "I want to be married to
you before I die, that is all--not just to-morrow, or the next day."
"When you please, my love," said Donal.
She laid her head on his bosom.
"We are as good as married now," she said: "we know that each loves
the other! How I shall wait for you! You will be mine, you know--a
little bit mine--won't you?--even if you should marry some beautiful
lady after I am gone?--I shall love her when she comes."
"Arctura!" said Donal.


CHAPTER LXXXI.
A WILL AND A WEDDING.
But the opening of the windows of heaven, and the unspeakable rush
of life through channels too narrow and banks too weak to hold its
tide, caused a terrible inundation: the red flood broke its banks,
and weakened all the land.
Arctura sent for Mr. Graeme, and commissioned him to fetch the
family lawyer from Edinburgh. Alone with him she gave instructions
concerning her will. The man of business shrugged his shoulders,
laden with so many petty weights, bowed down with so many falsest
opinions, and would have expostulated with her.
"Sir!" she said.
"You have a cousin who inherits the title!" he suggested.


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