" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. Spurling; "they're both here. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head.
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