Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. The door to the room in question was closed.
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