’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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