“When we go indoors I will show you the offers I have refused,” she answered. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been.
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