Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. She evolved a dim image of herself cooped up in a house under the benevolent shadow of Mr. They blinded me.
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