It was a little box of a place, with a rude bedstead in one corner, filthy beyond the power of water to cleanse.

The occupant sat on a little bench in another corner, with her eyes rolled up to Jim's in a tragic expression, which would make the fortune of an actress.

He felt of his hair, impulsively.
"How are ye now?
How do ye feel ?" inquired Jim, tenderly.
She gave him no answer, but glared at him as if she would search the very depths of his heart.
"If ye'll look t'other way, ye'll obleege me," said Jim.
But the woman gazed on, speechless, as if all the soul that had left her brain had taken up its residence in her large, black eyes.
"Is she tryin' to look me out o' countenance, Doctor ?" Inquired Jim, "'cause, if she is, I'll stand here and let 'er try it on; but if she ain't I'll take the next one." "Oh, she doesn't know what she's about, but it's a very curious form of insanity, and has almost a romantic interest attached to it from the fact that it did not escape the notice of the great bard." "I notice, myself," said Jim, "that she's grated and barred." The Doctor looked at his visitor inquisitively, but the woodman's face was as innocent as that of a child.

Then they passed on to the next cell, and there they found another Woman sitting quietly in the corner, among the straw.
"How fare ye, this mornin' ?" inquired Jim, with a voice full of kindness.
"I'm just on the verge of eternity," replied the woman.
"Don't ye be so sure o' that, now," responded Jim.

"Ye're good for ten year yit." "No," said the woman, "I shall die in a minute." "Does she mean that ?" inquired Jim, turning to the Doctor.
"Yes, and she has been just on the verge of eternity for fifteen years," replied the Doctor, coolly.