"Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. When mistress took and died—’ Joan broke off and sighed, moving away to the window.
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