"Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright.
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