“I’ll bring it to-morrow. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. This hand consigned him to destruction, but another was stretched forth to save him. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman.
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