He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “They make me want to shout,” said Mr. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. A message was dispatched from Florence that she was to again receive her future husband. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him.
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