He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. "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. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!" "I'll be getting along. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Still silence everywhere. F.
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