He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father.
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