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It now appeared that the marquis was poisoned by the vengeance of the woman to whom he had resigned his conscience. The consternation and distress of Ferdinand cannot easily be conceived: he hastened back to his father's chamber, but determined to conceal the dreadful catastrophe of Maria de Vellorno. This precaution, however, was useless; for the servants, in the consternation of terror, had revealed it, and the marquis had fainted.,

“Why in the world should Nils lend you his blouse?”,

“Why—why you never wanted to go before and I—I don’t think I can take you with me to-day.”,

The search after Julia still continued, and was still unsuccessful. The astonishment of the marquis increased with his disappointments; for where could Julia, ignorant of the country, and destitute of friends, have possibly found an asylum? He swore with a terrible oath to revenge on her head, whenever she should be found, the trouble and vexation she now caused him. But he agreed with the duke to relinquish for a while the search; till Julia, gaining confidence from the observation of this circumstance, might gradually suppose herself secure from molestation, and thus be induced to emerge from concealment.

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“You wild youngsters! If ever I saw your equal!” he grumbled behind his red-brown beard. “Sit still, I tell you!”,

I accompanied him to the convent, and the friar introduced me to his superior, a man of an intelligent mind and benevolent heart, with whom I passed some hours in interesting conversation. I believe my sentiments pleased him; for, by his indulgence, I was permitted to take abstracts of the history before me, which, with some further particulars obtained in conversation with the abate, I have arranged in the following pages.,

But because no one was around now, it did not mean that no one would be. Probably the best plan would be to go and go quickly before either Wesley or Harper decided to come down and bring their captive food and water.,

Not another thing was to be found in that garden—not a decent sugar pea nor a carrot even; just some stupid mignonette and violets and other flowers that smelled sweet—as if they were any good! No, truly, Aunt Grenertsen’s garden was not very pleasant.