Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. It had been very peaceful in the little cave for countless years. ” “The world has no sense of what is due to youth and courage. He waited. It came with an extreme effect of re-discovery, a remarkable novelty. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”.
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