From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. "You mistake,—you are mine. . “Rubbish!” he answered.
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