"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. He shook his head all the time. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. A slow anger burned in the man.
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