Let me go, Sir. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. ” She demanded. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned.
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