Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “You did a great job on my concerto today.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 02:19:01
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