In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. "I am innocent.
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