"We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. “Forgive me,” he said. " "Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily. ” “It can’t prevent our loving.
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