His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. CHAPTER XXVI. "I will," answered the prisoner. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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