Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. But he wrote on. Show him no quarter, Poll. “How will you live?” she appealed. In spite of the tumultuous joy which agitated him, the bridegroom could not prevent the intrusion of some saddening thoughts, as he reflected upon the melancholy scene which he had so recently witnessed in the same place. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it.
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