“Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. I know all about it. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. " That satisfied something of her undefined hunger.
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