"He stands before you," rejoined her son. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. They don’t know who did it, actually. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. At once. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. God had never answered any of her prayers. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London.
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