" The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. I have—run away. She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so bitterly. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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