"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “It’s best,” he said, “to make it a good round sum. “Oh! He’s wonderful! Isobella, you are truly blessed!” She said as she held the baby. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world.
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