"Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. This suggestion being approved, was instantly acted upon, and the thief-taker, accompanied by a body of the grenadiers, rode forward. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. “I’m not that beautiful. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. ’ ‘You mean Valade? Don’t be downhearted. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more.
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