‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand.
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