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Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest,
animating and directing its fury. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is
me when they see this. She had been in the
drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered
gaily to every one. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. "Do you call this frantic glee happiness?"
"It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming
suddenly calm, "and it's short-lived enough, as you perceive. The contest, however,
though desperate, was brief. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the
inmate of a mad-house?"
"She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's
misconduct. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she
had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest
daughter.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 18:33:37