Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails.
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