He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. I don’t care what divides us.
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