His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. But he might have broken out of prison, and yet not got over the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness.
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