Look at it, I say. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. "Well, I will see him," replied the knight, after a moment's pause; "he may be from the Earl of Mar. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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