At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. She recoiled. Old implements of housebreaking were discovered; and the thief-taker's most hidden depositories were laid bare. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights.
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