The day had become suddenly overcast. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. Anna was singing as she used to sing.
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