‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again. She had fallen asleep. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations. .
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