"Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. And your great-niece. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. And I heard ‘Alcide’ sing, and that little dance she did. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him.
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