She was shocked. "Bring the light, Nab. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. ‘I can’t do that. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind.
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