 Poor little Faith!" thought he, for his heart smote him. "What a wretch am I to leave her on such an errand! She talks of dreams, too. Methought as she spoke there was trouble in her face, as if a dream had warned her what work is to be done to-night....  The American Whig Review - Pagina 324geredigeerd door - 1846Volledige weergave - Over dit boek
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