The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. We can see round them and behind them and through them, and most of us use that knowledge, in the silent way we have, for our great ends.
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