The Closing Scene. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Look at the poor victim at your feet. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. " The latter part of this speech was delivered with so much significance of manner, that a bystander might have inferred that Mr. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers.
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