Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. "Is she dead?" "No—no," answered Hogarth. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. " "Dying!" echoed the knight. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. He was suddenly calm. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. " "Oh, Heaven!" exclaimed Jack. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. .
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