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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. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ” It was nearly half an hour before they dared ask him the question. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated.
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