‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. “Here, dis is for you. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do.
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