I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. At this moment, the bell began to toll in a peculiar manner, announcing the approach of the corpse.
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