" As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. Almost at the same moment the door opened and Brendon entered, followed by the doctor. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects except that it was destitute even of a barrack-bedstead, the Red Room was reserved for state-prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the jail, as has before been mentioned, was crowded by the Preston rebels. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. The impassivity of her features changed at last.
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