He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. I don’t care. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. The chapel was situated in the old ballroom, and from there, down a few stairs, the vestry had taken the place of the pantry next to the kitchens.
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