When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. He was all alone, too. “John’s here. Wood. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. I believe I have always been in love with you.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM4LjEwMS4yMzEgLSAxMi0wNy0yMDI0IDAzOjU0OjEyIC0gMzYzMDc2NTg4
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