At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief.
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