At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Her tone was icy. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. He hoped he would get to see the two suitors face off over Lucy. And you have stolen my dagger. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. Jack Kimble. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen.
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