There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. She shook her head. " "You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. I must leave England to-night. "Mr. “My mind is full of confused stuff,” he said at length.
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