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. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. ” Anna nodded, and Mr. Austin, who had been evidently schooled by Wild, maintained a profound silence on this head. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent.
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