“Cool. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. ” He paused. “Don’t you care for Mr. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. That’s the fact of the matter. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. “Yes.
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