And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. And this is not France, you understand. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. He resolved to judge for himself. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters.
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