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It was-it must be-yes, that long, dark hair and those lovely features belonged only to Stella! The old man bowed down his head and wept. Nearer, nearer, and now all fear was gone, for the bold swimmer still showed an unfailing strength and energy. But his face was unknown. None had seen it before. Yet Borelloni knew it-well he knew it.
The luncheon was partaken of with more avidity by the others than by Dawn, whose mind was constantly reverting to the words which she had read. "Now for the story, Auntie," said Herbert, seating himself on the grass, beside her. "Do you remember the name of the nymph I am going to tell you about?" "Yes, it was-it was Echo." "Very good. I am glad you remembered it.
"Comin' home pretty soon, ain't ye," he asked, "to give us some hymn tunes Sunday evenings? W'at'll I git for ye? Must be hungry after so much singing." "I'm afraid I wasn't in voice to-night," said she rather wearily. "Not in voice!" protested Ethel with shy enthusiasm; "why, Nelly, I never before heard even you sing like that; it was-it was-oh, it was wonderful!"
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