“Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. ‘You cannot be André Valade if you tell them I am one of this family. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. Ennison. Let me say it to you.
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