Nothing seemed to be amiss. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “I never dreamt!” she said.
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