"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. She opened the door with a neon colored key. " The course of the carpenter's meditations was here interrupted by a loud note of lamentation from the child, who, disturbed by the transfer, and not receiving the gentle solace to which he was ordinarily accustomed, raised his voice to the utmost, and exerted his feeble strength to escape. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. “It—it—must come,” she faltered.
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