The tired woman looked quietly at her. "This gentleman brings us tidings of an old friend, my dear," said the carpenter. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. And now her father said she must not go. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. It is a true saying that in the mountains there is peace.
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