| [1] | Mon cœur, au lieu de sang, ne roule que des larmes. Lamartine. |
ELEONORE EBOLI.
A TALE OF FACT.
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BY WINIFRED BARRINGTON.
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CHAPTER I.
In the garret room of a little two-story house in Philadelphia, sat two women, both of whom were foreigners. A child reclined in the lap of one of them, who was haggard and thin, yet beautiful. Her features were of the Grecian cast, with a most fascinating smile, and hair of a light auburn, that curled naturally and in profusion around her finely modeled head.
The appearance of the other woman was common-place, but she had a frank and kind expression that redeemed her bad looks. They were both French; the blonde had evidently a Parisian air, whilst the other as evidently came from one of the provinces.