The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Standing over the pierced Rhea, Lucy bayed, a long cry that was half-scream and half-howl. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. He looked at her guiltily.
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