One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. 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. "I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule.
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