‘Talk to me another time. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. ’ She sagged a little suddenly, as if the painful memories in her mind had exhausted her body. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Still silence everywhere. The bedding was removed; Mrs. . “It was only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming over. ’ Gosse blinked.
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