From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan.
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