As she sat the bride actually woke up, sat up, and looked frightfully around the room. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “You!” she exclaimed.
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