And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. ‘Here she is. He held in his hands many threads. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper.
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