There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. At breakfast both of them played their parts skillfully. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag.
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