Page 612 - bleak-house
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chamber to carry any faint vibration to Sir Leicester’s ears;
and yet this cry is in the house, going upward from a wild
figure on its knees.
‘O my child, my child! Not dead in the first hours of her
life, as my cruel sister told me, but sternly nurtured by her,
after she had renounced me and my name! O my child, O
my child!’
612 Bleak House
