So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. “I am lonely. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. "Then, the story of his death was false. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. She could no longer wait.
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