"Will he live?" asked Ruth. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. "It was silly. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. "Aliva, your child perished with its father.
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