Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. The truth was impossible, indecent. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. " "Do not talk thus, dear mother," returned Jack, gazing anxiously at her pale countenance, "or I shall not be able to quit you.
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