All through the air the smell of heather, sweet and fragrant, reigns. Far down, miles away, the waves rush inland, glinting and glistening in the sunlight.,
"Mona, it is—it must be!" says Geoffrey, taking her hand; and so they both stand, almost breathless, on the high bank, listening intently.,
"I have heard of it. A third son would be poor, of course, and—and worldly people would not think so much of him as of others. Is that so?".
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