On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. CONTENTS.
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