There is no Heaven for your mother. "The traps!" responded a bystander. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me.
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