As soon as Jack gained his legs, he perceived Blueskin lying, as he thought, dead in the plantation, with a severe cut across his temples, and while he was stooping to assist him, he heard groans at a little distance. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it.
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