She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. “You’re. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. ’ She counted off on her fingers.
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