Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. But what are you doing here?” “Old Père Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go. 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. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day.
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