He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. Kneebone begged him to take the prisoner into the churchyard. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice.
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