Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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