“My word holds,” she said. ” Ann Veronica had remained standing while her aunt spoke. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. If we don’t live it will think we are afraid of it. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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