The lad hesitated. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves. His tone was kind and sympathetic. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. “Please forgive me. And, if I can render you any service, you may command me.
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