But it is the truth. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. Then they had released her arms and were trying to push her away.
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