"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. Mr. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family.
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