The militia offered little in the way of relief. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely.
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