Lucy slipped upstairs silently. She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. .
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