Mr. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. Squire and master. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards.
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