So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called.
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