One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. "Never—never!" The words were scarcely pronounced, when the door was violently thrown open, and two men appeared at it. She would never again be lonely. " "The link of the chain next the staple is sawn through," said Ireton, stooping to examine Blueskin's fetters.
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