Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. But I will not believe you. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. " "Suffer me to proceed," replied the stranger. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. ” “Yes.
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