And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. I ought never to have thought of it. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered.
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