The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. " "And perish upon the gibbet," rejoined Jonathan contemptuously. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room.
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