It was the last thing she felt like drinking. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move.
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