She wrapped a leg around him. . "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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