I can smell you. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter One In the quiet of an autumn afternoon, the deserted mansion slept. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. .
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