\" Lucy replied. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. She must kill this man, or kill herself. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. "A sail?" said McClintock. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described.
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