"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. I know who hits hardest. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. “I have heard of you, of course,” Anna answered hesitatingly, “but——” “You cannot imagine what I have come to see you about. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled.
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