During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. Offer to return it to each in private. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. You cannot depart hence.
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