’ ‘A dagger, is it then?’ The girl froze. She drew it out with shaking fingers. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside.
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