The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. They are long gone. E.
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