On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer.
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