Chapter 65
song by charlotte turner smith read for librivox dot org by david barnes does pity give though fate denies and to my wounds her balm impart oh speak with those expressive eyes let one low sigh escape thine heart the gazing crowd shall never guess what anxious watchful love can see nor know what those soft looks express nor dream that sign is meant for me ah words are useless words are vain thy generous sympathy to prove and well that sign those looks explain that clara mourns my hapless love the
