—Strype's Stow. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. “You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. Her steps slowed. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison.
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