"Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight.
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