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Excerpt from Mervyn Clithero
I am the only son, by his first marriage, of Captain Charles Clitheroe, of Clitheroe, in Lancashire. My mother's maiden name was Clara Leyburne. She was an orphan, and was brought up by a benevolent lady, a near relation of her own, Mrs. Mervyn, after whom I was named. She was only seventeen when she was united to my father, and extremely beautiful. I have but an indistinct recollection of her, but remember she had very dark eyes and very dark hair, and an expression of countenance which I thought angelic. I also remember she talked to me a great deal about my papa, and showed me his picture, telling me how tall and handsome he was, and hoping I should grow up like him. He was a long way off, fighting in India, she said, and she didn't think she should ever see him again, and the thought made her extremely unhappy. She told me I must never be a soldier, as, when I went away to the wars, I should make those who loved me unhappy. I promised I would not; and on this she pressed me to her bosom, and wept over me; and I wept too for company. She had always looked pale and thin, but she now began to look paler and thinner, and even I noticed the change. Sometimes, casting wistful looks at me, she would say, "What will become of you, Mervyn, if I leave you?" I told her she mustn't leave me; but she shook her head despondingly, and said, "Alas! I cannot help it." Soon after this she became very ill, and kept her bed, where I was often taken to see her; and very pretty she looked, though quite white, like a sheet. At such times she would kiss me, and cry over me.
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