Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. "Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men.
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