He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. "Leave go!" cried Jack, struggling violently, and raising his hand, "or I'll maul you for life. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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