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Mary Van De Werve was in her own apart before a silver

crucifix; she seeht of woe Her head rested upon

her clasped hands She had been weeping bitterly; for there were traces of

tears upon the prie-Dieu

Had a stranger surprised the young girl in this attitude, heprayer; but the gasping

breath and heaving chest sufficiently attested that she had not sunk in

sleep, but that she was plunged in an expressible sorrow

Behind her was seated an old woazed upon the young girl with deep compassion; from time to time she

shook her head, and wiped away the tears which dihs became heavier

For some time the silence was unbroken; Mary even appeared somewhat

calmer, when suddenly, influenced by soht, she

extended her arh thy precious blood spare his life! Have

ain her head fell on her hands, as if this burning petition had

exhausted her strength The duenna approached her, took her arm,