direction of Easton. By Scheimer’s on the way, and I could see a light in Sarah’s window. I remembered how in, all the Bedlam in the house that morning she still cried out: “I will go with him.” I remembered how, only a few months before, she had been brutally flogged in that very chamber, to “get the devil out of her.” I remembered, too, the many happy, happy hours we had passed together. And here was I, handcuffed and dragged in a wagon, I knew not whither.
direction of Easton. By Scheimer’s on the way, and I could see a light in Sarah’s window. I remembered how in, all the Bedlam in the house that morning she still cried out: “I will go with him.” I remembered how, only a few months before, she had been brutally flogged in that very chamber, to “get the devil out of her.” I remembered, too, the many happy, happy hours we had passed together. And here was I, handcuffed and dragged in a wagon, I knew not whither.
