White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that. . In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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