Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. I can’t forget about your sister. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst. The day had become suddenly overcast. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed.
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