A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. It was Annabel’s. " Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. "And you would surrender yourself —eh?" "I'll surrender myself at once, if you'll engage to bring him off; and you'll get the reward from old Wood. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there.
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