And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. Beautiful is the girl of twelve,—who is neither child nor woman, but something between both, something more exquisite than either! Such was the fairy creature presented to Thames Darrell, under the following circumstances. 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. Now I do.
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