Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it.
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