"And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. . A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me.
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