With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. .
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