Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. “I shall never be able to thank you. ” “Do you still love him?” “Just the opposite. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. Nasty, damp passages. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. And he did not lack courage.
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