Anna was unimpressed. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing.
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