ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. With his foodle doo! "Peace!" cried Jack. Hurry. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened.
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