" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. "You may die afterwards as soon as you please," retorted Jonathan; "but live till then you shall. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions.
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