So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. Meanwhile, the mob outside had prodigiously increased, and had begun to exhibit some disposition to riot. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it.
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