Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. Yon must be mine to-night. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. Celeste he knew. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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