I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. I am glad you found me. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. Do you understand?’ ‘Aye, sir. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet.
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