“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. . "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. "Facts convince the most incredulous," answered Jonathan, drily.
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