“I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures. "She may yet be saved. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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