’ ‘That’s right,’ agreed the militiaman, coming forward to stand before her. ” The hand lingered too long. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. ’ Her lashes fluttered. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. "No. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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