"You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. " "To be sure you are," replied Jonathan, laughing. " "Never!" rejoined Kneebone, with increased ardour,—"never, till I receive from your own lips the answer which is to make me the happiest or the most miserable of mankind. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. She gave her lips to his without resistance.
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