“Will he die?” she asked. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. Mischief bubbled up in her. . The knight stood upon his defence; but he would unquestionably have been torn in pieces by the savage hounds, if a shower of oaths, seconded by a vigorous application of kicks and blows from their master, had not driven them growling off. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word.
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