She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. The next moment he was by her side. So frightful, indeed, were the ravages of this malady, to which debtors and felons were alike exposed, that its miserable victims were frequently carried out by cart-loads, and thrown into a pit in the burial-ground of Christ-church, without ceremony. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely.
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