"He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost immediately it was turned out.
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