"Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. She spoke slowly.
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