She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. And, snatching the spike from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head.
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