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Updated: June 17, 2025
Roupall and the youth crept stealthily down the cliff by a secret path; then, with the greatest deliberation, Jack struck a light, and prepared to fire the train they had connected with those within the nest, to which we alluded at the commencement of our narrative; while Springall proceeded to perform a similar task a little lower down the Crag, towards the window from whence the preacher, Fleetword, slung the packet which so fortunately arrived at the place of its destination.
"All this is of the evil one," said Fleetword, after peering among the old walls, and approaching his nose so closely to the larger stones, that it might be imagined he was smelling, not looking at them. "Whither has the creature escaped?" "Verily, I know not," was Burrell's reply. "Best come with me into the Gull's Nest; I would speak with Robin." The unsuspicious preacher did as he was desired.
"Not just now, Barbara: but leave out my hood. Did my father again ask for me?" "Not since, mistress. Mr. Fleetword is with him." Barbara left the room. "I cannot tell why, my lady," she said earnestly to Lady Frances, whom she met in the vestibule "I cannot divine the reason, but this bridal has to me the semblance of a funeral.
"Nor I either," thought Lady Frances: "but, Barbara, you might think or or see perhaps " "Please you, my lady, I do think a great deal, and the Rev. Mr. Fleetword said to me only this morning, that I grew in grace as much as in stature. And, as to seeing, please your ladyship " "Pshaw, child! it is not that I mean. Could you not discover?
"Thou canst comprehend that," replied Fleetword: "truly truly, the creature comforts have absorbed thy whole stock of ideas. Thou art like a sponge, Solomon a mere fungus. Thou may'st put in the toast. And hark ye! if ye see Barbara, tell her I would speak with her; not here not here that would be unseemly but in the oak parlour, or the library, I care not which."
If the Lord had willed that I should suffer as a martyr for his holy word, Jonas Fleetword would not have been the man to repine, but gladly would have sacrificed his body as a proof of his exceeding faith, and as an example to encourage others; but to be starved for Sir Willmott Burrell's pastime to starve in this horrid cell to feel nature decaying within me, while not even the ravens can bring me food!
He had not proceeded far upon his course, when he was literally seized upon by the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, who ever appeared to the troubled and plotting Sir Willmott in the character of an evil genius.
At this instant the door opened, and Dalton strode into the midst of them with that lordly step and dignified aspect he could so well, not only assume, but preserve; even Fleetword was silenced, when the Skipper, turning to him, demanded how he came there, and if he had forgotten that a dying woman had solicited his aid.
"Then I assure you of it," replied Fleetword; "and let this convince you of my truth, that I love the sweet lady, Constance Cecil, too well, to see her shadowed even by such dishonour as your words treat of. Sir Willmott, Sir Willmott! you have shown the cloven foot!"
"Ah! what of her?" "Is in his keeping, and a certain preacher also a worthy, simple, yet, withal, a keen man, whom Sir Willmott Burrell, as I understand, entrapped and shut up, with famine as his only associate, because he had become possessed of some papers proving Sir Willmott's marriage with the Jewish lady." "And Dalton " "Saved this Fleetword!"
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