How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 435 XXVII. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. "It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. . Wood and Thames pass him, and followed at a foot's pace behind them. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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