To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a
web browser that
supports HTML5 video
Chapter Seven
‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. As
soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the
unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden
churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the
weight of his affliction. He wrote
poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly
infinite memory. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to
the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form,
and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable
print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. "I am quite easy
now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured
my last prayer shall be for you. Wild,"
he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the
prisoner. So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. Wood, Sir," he added, with
much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not
that—" and he hesitated. ”
She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive
movement.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQuMjQ3LjE5OSAtIDA4LTA3LTIwMjQgMDU6MzQ6MzUgLSAxMTgyNzAxODk0
This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 06-07-2024 18:21:07