"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. I haven’t taken much account of it until now.
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