"He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. “Please call me Carol.
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