And then suddenly—a relief. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, “No. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted.
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