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GRANDMOTHER 313 |
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of the book lies a rose, quite flat and dry ; it is not as pretty as the roses she has standing iifthe glass, and yet she smiles at it most pleasantly of all, and tears even come into her eyes. I wonder why Grandmother looks at the withered flower in the old book in that way ? Do you know ? Why, each time that Grandmother's tears fall |
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upon the rose, its colours become fresh again ; the rose swells and fills the whole room with its fragrance ; the walls sink as if they were but mist, and all around her is the glorious green wood, where the sunlight streams through the leaves of the trees ; and Grandmother—why, she is young again, a charming maid with yellow curls and full blooming cheeks, pretty and graceful, fresh as any rose ; but the eyes, the mild blessed eyes, they have been left to Grandmother. At her side sits a young man, tall and strong : he gives the rose to her, and she smiles ; |
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