Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. ‘Speak, then. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted! On all sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied. Beneath that tree let us lie.
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