But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. ‘The major will tell you when to stop. On this I am resolved. He recoiled from the sting.
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