“Close your eyes. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. . ’ He called through the library door. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. ‘I do not wish to hear any more reasons so foolish, so do not trouble to think of them. I have fulfilled my part of our marriage contract. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own.
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