Sheppard, that I fear any further anxiety might prove fatal to him. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold.
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