Oh, to be cast back in that house — with all the motion away from it, the escapes and flourishes of freedom, wholly negated — as if I had gone nowhere — as if there were no motion. Oh, to be back in that house where my last sight had been the

When last I had been imprisoned, in my childhood, she had been at my side; we had been stashed in the ice-house. I was not, then, alone, for she loved me; she was with me then and spake comfortably to me.

Oh, to be returned to that house of death —

There is no