There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. " "Well, then, lose no time in bringing him to us," said Mrs. "Let us sit here," she said, indicating the white sand bordering the lagoon; "and in a minute or two you will see something quite wonderful. She cried out his name in ecstasy. .
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