“I believe that you are right,” he said softly. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. “I’ve fallen in love. To-morrow they will all be contradicted. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. 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. They clapped wildly afterward.
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