The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Jack then intimated his intention of visiting Winifred's chamber, in which several articles of value were known to be kept; but as, notwithstanding his reckless character, he still retained a feeling of respect for the object of his boyish affections, he would not suffer Blueskin to accompany him, so he commanded him to keep watch over the sleepers—strictly enjoining him, however, to do them no injury. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted.
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