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ONE OF SEVEN;

OR,

Not Gilt but Gold."

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S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., 9, PATERNOSTER ROW.

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ONE OF SEVEN;

OR,

"NOT GILT BUT GOLD."

CHAPTER I.

ONE summer morning the sun, having for two hours been up and doing, shone brightly into an end room of a house in a suburb of the busy city of N, and his cheering rays showed a pleasant picture. By a small table sat a young girl, with an open book before her, from which she was reading attentively, when these words arrested her gaze: "The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow, for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." As if the verse had some special attraction for her, she re-read it, and seemed to ponder its meaning. Ere long a gentle knock ended her reverie, and she rose quickly and went to the door, as though she knew who sought admission, and was right

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