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"Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. "Take the prisoners below, Nab," said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew; "I'll join you in an instant. . She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern.
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