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It was of no use; he must cry. With his head in his mother’s lap he cried hard. Mother stroked his head gently. “Uncle Isaac wished it so much himself, my boy. He was eager to go to God,” she whispered. He found Madame de Menon and his sisters awaiting his return in the most painful anxiety; and, thus disappointed in all his endeavours to penetrate the secret of these buildings, and fatigued with fruitless search, he resolved to suspend farther enquiry. CHAPTER XIII.
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“It is John’s,” said Mother instantly and with the utmost certainty. And the soft warblings of the lover's lute. Well, he had been industrious. He had gone over every lesson five times, and he could rattle off all the exceptions in his German grammar and all the mountains in Asia, even those with the awfully hard names. “Thank you for the drive and for the rod,” said he, bowing..
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