Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched.
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