"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. Further, I do not care for you to accept social obligations from Mr. CHAPTER I. And, now, to find a messenger. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it.
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