“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. The storm burst upon them in its fury. “Ask me nothing.
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