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. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage.
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