At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. "I've spoken. Just then—I was nervous. Kneebone's man is in the shop," said Rachel; "he'll take it.
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