Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. We leave England to-night. She sat perfectly still, however. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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