Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. "There he is!" "I fear not," said her father, with a doubtful shake of the head. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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