He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. He cherished her. Jonathan shook his head. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. I never want you to be ashamed of me. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk.
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