When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant. . Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. 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. He laughed lightly.
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