By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. "All the wonderful things it is going to do! If I could only know for certain that my mother knew how happy I'm going to be!" "You love the memory of your mother?" "It is a part of my blood … my beautiful mother!" He saw Enschede, putting out to sea, alone, memories and regrets crowding upon his wake. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death.
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