At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. ” “But Hainault—was—a pal.
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