Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand.
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