All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it.
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