‘He was very kind to me. "Take this key to Baptist Kettleby. My death, probably. I love you. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. His tone was kind and sympathetic.
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