We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. " Her attitude now entirely sisterly, he ceased to be afraid of her; there was never anything in her eyes (so far as he could see) but friendly interest in all he said or did. ‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer.
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