Somehow to-night—I don’t know. I am certainly no ghost. She could not bear the shame of it. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion.
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