“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake.
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