1 Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child.
2 This light was my forlorn hope: I must gain it.
3 I hope your energies will then once more trouble you with their strength.
4 My faculties, roused by the change of scene, the new field offered to hope, seemed all astir.
5 Presently I heard Pilot bark far below, out of his distant kennel in the courtyard: hope revived.
6 I could not hope to get a lodging under a roof, and sought it in the wood I have before alluded to.
7 Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master.
8 My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven.
9 I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me.
10 Morton, when I came to it two years ago, had no school: the children of the poor were excluded from every hope of progress.
11 The utmost I hope is, to save money enough out of my earnings to set up a school some day in a little house rented by myself.
12 As you hope ever to be forgiven, Mr. Rivers, the high crime and misdemeanour of spoiling a sanded kitchen, tell me what I wish to know.
13 The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass.
14 Your habitual expression in those days, Jane, was a thoughtful look; not despondent, for you were not sickly; but not buoyant, for you had little hope, and no actual pleasure.
15 Still you are miserable; for hope has quitted you on the very confines of life: your sun at noon darkens in an eclipse, which you feel will not leave it till the time of setting.
16 St. John, no doubt, would have given the world to follow, recall, retain her, when she thus left him; but he would not give one chance of heaven, nor relinquish, for the elysium of her love, one hope of the true, eternal Paradise.
17 While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and felt it was no longer plain: there was hope in its aspect and life in its colour; and my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of fruition, and borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple.
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