"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. Forgive me. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses.
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