Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do.
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