"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. That's how I finally got wind of it. At this moment, the bell began to toll in a peculiar manner, announcing the approach of the corpse. He was in the house with his mother. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice.
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