" "Very well, Sir," replied Sheppard. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace.
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