But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. " As he spoke, a smile crossed Sheppard's countenance.
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