Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. It might prove rewarding. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. But, perhaps Mr. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. I have unfinished business.
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