She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. Get pen and paper for the missie. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again.
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