“He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. The day is already half over. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit.
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