I saw the blood come as he rolled over. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. I knew where I would go next: Florence. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. Sheppard was committed to the earth. Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married. Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him.
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