The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. Moreover, atrociously and inexorably, he allowed it to appear ever and again in horrible gleams that he suspected there was some man in the case.
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