CHAPTER III. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you.
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