As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. She wanted him so badly it hurt. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry.
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