"Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. I am going up to dine with my sister.
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