But you will, you will. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you.
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