The mob now directed their attention to Newgate; and, from their threats, appeared determined to fire it. He got up brusquely. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them.
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