"Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. \"Why weren't you there?\" She asked Mike. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. .
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