Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. Surely he was imagining this picture. Her thought spoke aloud. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire.
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