The Bed Room 400 XIX. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. 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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