It is at the lodge that we stay. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. " "What shall I do?" cried Mrs. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “Yes, I remember,” she said.
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