" "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. F. ’ ‘Alas. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.
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