” “I know—” said Ramage, with sympathy. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. Michelle smiled. ” She said. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. Finally she fell into reflection. “What happened then?” Michelle asked fearfully.
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