She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. 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. ‘Help yourself, Hilary.
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