If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. 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. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered.
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