In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. But, Gerald, do you believe there is a secret passage indeed?’ ‘Well, we covered every inch of the house and grounds, and I swear she never left that room by way of the door. That was life. McClintock will be tuning up the piano to-day. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever.
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