“Read this, John. Nothing else matters. “Soon enough, John. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate.
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