And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper. Oh, John. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. There must be something we can do. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it.
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