"I disown you. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. 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. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly.
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