"I have nearly done," replied the stranger. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. It is not at all what I expected either. “I saw his face in a mirror. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild.
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