The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. " "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. She kept opening her eyes and looking at it. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ” “I like Constance very much. I have no intention of allowing you to depart in a hurry. ’ A question leapt into Everett’s head and he recalled the letter to the Abbess. He reached for her, and she struck savagely. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. He remembered it suddenly. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion.
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