The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. But if you do not leave this room I must. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words.
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