The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. "I cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears; "indeed, indeed, I cannot. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever.
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