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. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. I—I hurt myself. ‘Knew you had the lad with you, and thought you were merely delayed. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand.
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