He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. " "Where are you going?" asked his mother. " "So far you are correct," observed Trenchard; "still, this is no secret.
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