‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. He let go of the girl’s arm. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. ’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. Perhaps he had heard of this Enschede. He was a fool.
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