" "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. By chance I went to one who had known you in Paris. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. She regarded the young man coldly. That would be him. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge.
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