“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. She gloried in it: he needed her. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Now tell them why. In some things, in many things, you must trust to your elders, to those who know more of life than you do. I don't think he'll come to himself too soon. It was eleven o'clock. “I should like you to come here,” she said.
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