Our ideal had fallen. ” Ramage reflected. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. She went into premature labor. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
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