Then she looked up at Brendon. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. "I began to fear, from his having quitted the old place, that some misfortune must have befallen him. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. Ladders, paviour's rams, sledge-hammers, and other destructive implements were procured, and, in all probability, their purpose would have been effected, but for the opportune arrival of a detachment of the guards, who dispersed them, not without some loss of life. ” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow.
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