" "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done.
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