“Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. “I can’t keep away from you. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. “Now, there, there. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. Every one turned to her in astonishment. .
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