We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. “It’s very late. Please yourself. "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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