“Your coffee’s too good to refuse. "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. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. After all, where prayer fails, a pistol is bound to succeed. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. “Shhh. " "As for that, I don't say.
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