Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust. Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. She knew, too, she must not hesitate. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere.
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