CHAPTER XVIII. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. . Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. "It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son.
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