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CHAPTER XX. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Always the other things remained. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. “But you must forgive me, John. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed. " "It matters not. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. "Jack," said Mrs.
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