4. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. “I do hope you will see how things are, and not be offended with me or frightfully shocked and distressed by what I have done. I could not love you else. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. "Here, Poll, help me!" Thus exhorted, Mrs.
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