"Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. . She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. .
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