“I can teach them so many things! Music, Latin, mathematics! Please do not take my Anna and Fritz away!” It was of no use. At this juncture, the door was opened by Rachel. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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