Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. ” Ennison laughed softly. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. “Poor old daddy! I wonder if he’ll spend much on the fatted calf?. It was the moment for smiles. I thought you understood. " A shadow, which was not cast by the jib, fell upon them both.
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