God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. .
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