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Ever busily winding the golden thread that bound them all

together, weaving the service of her happy influence through the

tissue of all their lives, and making it predominate nowhere,

Lucie heard in the echoes of years none but friendly and soothing

sounds. Her husband's step was strong and prosperous among them;

her father's firm and equal. Lo, Miss Pross, in harness of

string, awakening the echoes, as an unruly charger,

whip-corrected, snorting and pawing the earth under the

plane-tree in the garden!