I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. "First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it.
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