The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. She wanted to kiss his feet. Go to her and tell her. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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