Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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