"Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. “She must look forward to Italy. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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