” Lucy begged. But she did not in the least want to do that. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. O'Higgins did not confide in me. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief.
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