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One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. I'll call for you after lunch. "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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