Ah, no, I have it wrong. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. And Teddy declared himself ready to go to the ends of the earth for her, and carry her luggage all the way. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. It was the grand nursery of vice. "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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