Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. "Sir Cecil is no more. Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. So here is your chance, Mademoiselle Charvill. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids.
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