"I have," replied Jonathan. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. His blood would be sweet with it. She was shifting, moving back.
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