At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. "Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.
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