There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. It is at the lodge that we stay. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly.
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