But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. . She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. ” Mr.
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