The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him.
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