And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage.
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