“It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis.
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