Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. " "Never," replied Winifred. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed.
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