There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Retreating as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment, fortunately discovered a skreen, behind which he crept. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. . For a few minutes all was silent.
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