" Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. There was something very wrong. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind.
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