She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. ” “Above all, no one except I can know what you are. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. She breathed deeply. They'll inspect the schooner on the way back," McClintock lied, cheerfully. " "Her release would be a mercy," pursued the matron.
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