"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. . "Prisoner at the bar," thus ran the sentence, "you shall be taken to the prison from whence you came, and put into a mean room, stopped from the light; and shall there be laid on the bare ground, without any litter, straw, or other covering, and without any garment.
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