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The Widow and her Child. . “Certainly I was a little way off at the café, and she had a hat and veil on, but I could have sworn that it was ‘Alcide. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. ’ Melusine swung away and moved to stare dully out of the window of the little chapel vestry onto the mews outside. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. ’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters.
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