"Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. It had been cut down before life was extinct, but a ball from one of the soldiers had pierced his heart. Horrible doubts assailed her. I have been insulted, and cursed at, and threatened with both pistol and dagger.
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