She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. No one. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. But the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt.
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