"If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. I will not be sent away. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. " "But you are young!" It was a protest, almost vehement. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent.
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