Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began his perilous course. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. All we have to apprehend is a rescue. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. I’ve—dreads. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. “No I’m not, John. Paris, 18. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. But at the word “home” she turned again. Never be downhearted.
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