She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets.
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