" "That's impossible," replied Jack. I——” The door was thrown open. This is a case either of suicide or murder. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. I don’t know what has come over me. John, he was between me and the door. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there.
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