That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. “Thank you, ma’am. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. 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.
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