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Those searching glances were followed by a look of blank despair that settled heavily upon his pain-contracted features as he sank back and closed his eyes.
Anne, tall and slender, stood with her back to the window, her exquisite face in the shadows. Even in the dim, colourless light of the waning day, she was lovely—lovely even with the wet cheeks and the drooped, whimpering lips. "What did he say, mother?" she asked, her voice hushed and broken. "How did he look?" Her head was bent and she looked at her mother from beneath pain-contracted brows.
"That is he that is his step!" faintly exclaimed the sick woman, partially raising herself in bed, and gazing eagerly towards the door; while her pain-contracted features were, for the moment, smoothed by the smile of affection and pleasure that now broke over them, like the faint electric illumining of a weeping cloud. The quick ears of the afflicted mother had not deceived her.
Guillermo!" with an inspiration I draw the white face down to mine "forgive me for doubting you; you will keep your word," and I kiss him between the pain-contracted brows. "Oh, Blanca, Blanca, you vill kill me!" Is it a tear that drops on my face? I put my arm in his and draw him up the dark street, whispering some incoherent prayer. "Blanca, I cannot! I am not a man dthat I gif you up!"
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