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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson: hearth.
"Keep me, what's this?" she gasped. "Kirstie, what's this? I'm
frich'ened."
They were her last words.
It was the lowering nightfall when my lord returned. He had the sunset
in his back, all clouds and glory; and before him, by the wayside, spied
Kirstie Elliott waiting. She was dissolved in tears, and addressed him
in the high, false note of barbarous mourning, such as still lingers
modified among Scots heather.
"The Lord peety ye, Hermiston! the Lord prepare ye!" she keened out.
"Weary upon me, that I should have to tell it!"
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