You understand me, Charcoal. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. But Darrell averted his head. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. "I have nearly done," replied the stranger.
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