But this was a vicomte’s sister. E. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. ‘I have only borrowed it.
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