On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. I think not. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. ’ ‘How can you say so?’ protested Melusine. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone.
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