It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. ’ The dagger was in her hand.
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