‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. “No. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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