"There is no help for all these things are so, And all the world is bitter as a tear, And how these things are, though ye strove to show, _She would not know._" The voice of the clergyman intoned the last sad hope of humanity, the final prayer was said, and the mourners turned away, leaving Mrs. Turold to take her rest in a bleak Cornish churchyard among strangers, far from the place of her birth and kindred.…
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