There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. ” “I will think of it,” she repeated. Surely Capes was different. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. The room in which she sat was a portion of the garret, assigned, as we have just stated, by Mr. CHAPTER XXXI. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy.
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