"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ” “Go!” She did not understand him at first, and then her heart began to beat very rapidly. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed.
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