“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. “But that’s not all. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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