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This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair

beside me. She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the

turnkeys, and her countenance expressed all those bad qualities

which often characterise that class. The lines of her face were

hard and rude, like that of persons accustomed to see without

sympathising in sights of misery. Her tone expressed her entire

indifference; she addressed me in English, and the voice struck

me as one that I had heard during my sufferings.

"Are you better now, sir?" said she.

I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I

am; but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry

that I am still alive to feel this misery and horror."