" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. Wild," edged in Quilt. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet.
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