E. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Certainly he could not move now other than to announce the fact that he had found his man. Though he walked by the side of the governor, he seldom exchanged a word with him, but appeared wholly absorbed in the contemplations inspired by a broadbowled Dutch pipe. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. This is clear over my head. Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. . Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. And the fences are down for good.
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