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The three of them laughed joyously. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell.
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