"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, Rumbold and Whitney—a jolly crew! All carved their names on the stone, and all Share the fate of the brave Du Val! With their chisels so fine, tra la! "Save us!" continued the apprentice, "I hope this beam doesn't resemble the Newgate stone; or I may chance, like the great men the song speaks of, to swing on the Tyburn tree for my pains. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. She hastened past.
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