He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. But they were old enough to start remembering you as mother, and we cannot have that.
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