"A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. "Oh!—to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no.
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