"This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. 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. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. I’m okay.
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