"At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. " Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision.
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