You must live for me. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. ’ A multitude of changes flitted across Melusine’s features as she stood there for a space, unusually silent.
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