"I cannot do it. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat.
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