And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. CHAPTER XXI. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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