It’s like this: You want freedom. But I expect him back every minute. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice.
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