" "Dear sister——" "I should die happy, if I could behold my child. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Regardless of the risk he incurred from some heavy stone dropping on his head or feet,—regardless also of the noise made by the falling rubbish, and of the imminent danger which he consequently ran of being interrupted by some of the jailers, should the sound reach their ears, he continued to pull down large masses of the wall, which he flung upon the floor of the cell. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. Her lips were dry and cracked. He has no imagination, no real generosity. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench.
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