Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu.
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