Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. "Mr. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed.
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