Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way.
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