She got up and unlocked the door. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. The door closed softly upon her. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. Drink, and no sustaining food. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired.
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