Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. It’s just that I want to say. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly.
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