" "Be silent, and conceal yourself. She felt the warm nearness of his. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. "There, Sir," she added, unlocking the door, "you can go in. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. "Hurrah! come along, Thames; we're free. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave.
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