She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world.
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