Christian life; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
'Silence!' cried a voice of tremendous power; and immediately the keeper
stood beside us. He rudely seized the old man's arm, and the flush of
animation was instantly blanched by fear. I saw the reverend form of age
thus bow before brute violence, and I forgot for a moment that I was
powerless to defend. 'Inhuman!' I exclaimed; 'will you not reverence
grey hairs and misfortune?'
Without deigning me a look, the keeper led his captive away; while I
followed him with eyes in which the tears of alarm now mingled with
those of pity. He presently returned, and sternly commanded me to go
with him. Eager as I was for my dismission, I yet trembled while I
obeyed. We reached the door of my cell; and though I expected to pass
it, I involuntarily recoiled. 'Go in!' said the keeper, in a voice of
terrible authority.
'Here!' I exclaimed, with a start of agony. 'Oh, Heaven! did you not
say--did you not promise----'
'Ay, ay,' interrupted the man; 'but I must see you a little quieter
first. Get in, get in!'
'No, no! I will not! Though I perish, I will not!'
A withering smile crossing that dark countenance, he seized me with a
force which reduced me to the helplessness of infancy; and regardless of
the shriek wrung from me by hopeless anguish, he bore me into the cell,
shook off my imploring hold, and departed. I heard the dreary creaking
of the bolt; and I heard no more. I fell down senseless.
When I revived, I found myself supported by the arm of a person who was
administering restoratives to me. The first accents to which I were
sensible were those of the keeper; who said, as if in answer to some
question, 'She has been almost as high this morning ever.'
'So, so!' returned the other. 'Well! she'll do for the present, so I
must be gone. Keep an eye on her, and tell me how she comes on. And
harkye, give her a better place--if they don't pay for it, I will. I am
sure she is a gentlewoman.'
In the hope that I might now effectually appeal to justice or to pity, I
made a strong effort to rouse myself; but my compassionate attendant
was gone. The keeper, however, who perhaps was severe only from a
mistaken sense of duty, had been alarmed into treating me with more
caution. He watched me till I was completely revived; and as soon as I
could make the necessary exertion, removed me to a different part of the
building.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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