And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. . I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place.
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