There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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