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It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. He shall have the estates. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. But most of all, I wanted to love. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jack Sheppard, by William Harrison Ainsworth This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. "Aliva, your child perished with its father.
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