It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. He waved a cordial goodbye. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. She is no longer mine; she is yours. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings.
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