E. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. 1. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night.
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