Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. He smiled tenderly. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. E. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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