His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction.
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