‘So now we come to it. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. He had been frozen in time at age forty-two. . ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote.
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