Her lips parted, but no words came. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Strange, I could never learn her history. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. He thanked God for this talent of his. "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly.
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