Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. Smith had never seen anything like it. . ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand.
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