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The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 12:47:02