On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. Resolution, severity, subtlety, were required for it; and these were qualities which Jonathan possessed in an extraordinary degree. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily.
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