"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. " At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Admirably, thank you,” Anna answered. He did not love Ruth.
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