It’s—Mrs. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment.
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