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. “I believe it is. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. Oh God! my limbs fail me. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave.
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