But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. Anyone would be intrigued. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped.
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