"But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. It was a haunted place. She drew a long breath. His lips were tight drawn. Never any doubt of it.
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