The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. I don’t think they do matter. Don’t leave me. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. " So saying, he violently shut and locked the door. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more.
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