He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. " So saying, he pushed aside the table, and the janizary stooping down, undrew a bolt and opened a trap-door. “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said.
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