Ennison slightly——” There was a dead silence in the little room. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. Night and day have been alike to me.
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