” Rhea whispered. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. They all left the room. 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. “I said you were”—he shouted—“NOT TO GO!” She made, and overdid, an immense effort to be a princess. “You vixen!” said Mr. Let me have a word with him, and you may take all the money. Loneliness.
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