The latter said to Mr. Beamish: 'I knew I should be
no match, so I sent for you,' causing his friend astonishment, inasmuch
as he was assured of the youth's natural valour.
Mr. Beamish was about to deliver an allocution of reproof to them in
equal shares, being entirely unsuspicious of any other reason for the
alarum than this palpable outbreak of a rivalry that he would have
inclined to attribute to the charms of Chloe, when the house-door swung
wide for them to enter, and the landlady of the house, holding clasped
hands at full stretch, implored them to run up to the poor lady: 'Oh,
she's dead; she's dead, dead!'
Caseldy rushed past her.
'How, dead! good woman?' Mr. Beamish questioned her most incredulously,
half-smiling.
She answered among her moans: 'Dead by the neck; off the door--Oh!'
Young Camwell pressed his forehead, with a call on his Maker's name. As
they reached the landing upstairs, Caseldy came out of the sitting-room.
'Which?' said Camwell to the speaking of his face.
'She!' said the other.
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