"Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. " "Nothing," echoed Wood furiously. His arm fell to his side. Seconds went by, and the cannon fired just as Rhea descended upon Lucy. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one.
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