Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. gutenberg. Wood, in equal trepidation. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. I have been sitting with him ever since.
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