Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth.
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