But her heart kept on sinking. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner. Not so Gosse. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place.
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