" "Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. " "That reminds me he's still at large," returned Ireton. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that.
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