There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not.
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