At last—I told a story. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. But this is all different.
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