She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “Not much. I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. You say I know nothing. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. " "I am one-and-twenty," observed Jack.
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