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not, perhaps, taking such perfect poetry of expression, a similar train of thought passed across Edward's mind on the morning that he galloped through the woods of the fair Spanish province where dwelt "the ladye of his love." Leontio, in the drama, was very much disappointed in his reception; so was Lorraine. The last dark branches which intercepted his view gave way, and he saw a heap of blackened ruins. Scarcely aware of his own actions, he sprang from his horse. A single glance convinced him it could harbour no human