And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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