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Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. " Sir Rowland bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them. CHAPTER XXI.
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