Ramage. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. These were seated in an imperfect semicircle about a very copper-adorned fireplace, surmounted by a carved wood inscription: “DO IT NOW. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. She rolled to one side.
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