"But, Dolly! father will never give his consent, you know that;" said a male voice behind the hawthorn hedge, that skirted the deep, sandy lane that led to Heath Farm. The tone, reproachful and irritating, in which this was spoken, was answered in a sweet, calm voice. "Until he gives his consent, his frank, free consent, Gilbert, I cannot, and _will not_ be your wife."…
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