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By the will of Mr. The Becks as a 187 family didn’t talk or ruminate over Mike’s or Lucy’s past much. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty.

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