" "Where are you going?" asked his mother. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. " "Jonathan Wild!" repeated the carpenter, trembling. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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