I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. 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. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. And go quickly that I may finish to search. The chapel was crowded to excess.
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