It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. I will never wed you.
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