—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. “What are you doing?” “Nothing. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power.
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