He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Before her was a great Gothic portal. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman. " The attendant did not understand him. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment.
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