Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. Wood obeyed. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient.
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