“Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. She pulled, he rose to his feet. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify.
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