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. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. .
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