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CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

But alas for the delusion! The morrow brought no improvement, neither the next day, nor the next, and as the world grew dim there crept into her heart a sense of utter desolation which neither the tender love of Maude Glendower nor yet the untiring devotion of Louis could in any degree dispel. All day would she sit opposite the window, her eyes fixed on the light with a longing, eager gaze, as if she feared that the next moment it might leave her forever. Whatever he could do for her Louis did, going to her room each morning and arranging her dress and hair just as he knew she used to wear it. She would not suffer anyone else to do this for her, and in performing these little offices Louis felt that he was only repaying her in part for all she had done for him.

Christmas Eve came at last, and if she thought of what was once to have been on the morrow, she gave no outward token, and with her accustomed smile bade the family good-night. The next morning Louis went often to her door, and
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