When Mr. St. Joh, it was beginning to snow; the whirling storm tinued all night. The day a keen wind brought fresh and blinding falls; by twilight the valley was drifted up and almost impassable. I had closed my shutter, laid a mat to the door to prevent the snow from blowing in u, trimmed my fire, and after sitting nearly an hour on the hearth listening to the muffled fury of the tempest, I lit a dle, took down “Marmion,” and beginning—
“Day set on Norham’s castled steep,
And Tweed’s fair river broad and deep,
And Cheviot’s mountains lone;
The massive towers, the donjon keep,
The flanking walls that round them sweep,
In yellow lustre shone”—
I soon fot storm in music.
I heard a he wind, I thought, shook the door. No; it was St. John Rivers, who, lifting the latch, came in out of the frozen hurrie—the howling darkness—and stood before me: the cloak that covered his tall figure all white as a glacier. I was almost in sternation, so little had……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
抱歉，章节内容不支持该浏览器显示～
【为了使用完整的阅读功能】
请考虑使用〔Chrome 谷歌浏览器〕、〔Safari 苹果浏览器〕或者〔Edge 微软浏览器〕等原生浏览器阅读！
谢谢!!!