Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. She began by being interested in his demonstrations and his biological theory, then she was attracted by his character, and then, in a manner, she fell in love with his mind. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. Her eyes were wide and bright.
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