[Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia by William Gilmore Simms]@TWC D-Link book
Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia

CHAPTER XXVII
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Without pausing to listen to the various speeches and inquiries which assailed his ears upon his arrival he advanced to the cavern, and was told that the captain had been for some time anxiously awaiting his arrival--that he had morosely kept the inner recess of the cave, and since his return, which had not been until late in the night, had been seen but two or three times, and then but for a moment, when he had come forth to make inquiries for himself.
Leaving his men differently disposed, Dillon at once penetrated into the small apartment in which his leader was lodged, assured of the propriety of the intrusion, from what had just been told him.
The recess, which was separated from the outer hall by a curtain of thick coarse stuff, falling to the floor from a beam, the apertures for the reception of which had been chiselled in the rock, was dimly illuminated by a single lamp, hanging from a chain, which was in turn fastened to a pole that stretched directly across the apartment.

A small table in the centre of the room, covered with a piece of cotton cloth, a few chairs, a broken mirror, and on a shelf that stood trimly in the corner, a few glasses and decanters, completed the furniture of the apartment.
On the table at which the outlaw sat, lay his pistols--a huge and unwieldy, but well-made pair.

A short sword, a dirk and one or two other weapons of similar description, contemplated only for hand-to-hand purposes, lay along with them; and the better to complete the picture, now already something _outre_, a decanter of brandy and tumblers were contiguous.
Rivers did not observe the slide of the curtain to the apartment, nor the entrance of Dillon.

He was deeply absorbed in contemplation; his head rested heavily upon his two palms, while his eyes were deeply fixed upon the now opened miniature which he had torn from the neck of Lucy Munro, and which rested before him.

He sighed not--he spoke not, but ever and anon, as if perfectly unconscious all the while of what he did, he drank from the tumbler of the compounded draught that stood before him, hurriedly and desperately, as if to keep the strong emotion from choking him.


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