"I don't know what his idea was. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. “I suppose you’ll come to the point soon—if there is one. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. I don't threaten idly, as you know. \" She replied to him, looking into his blue eyes. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing.
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