"What is this?" she wanted to know. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture.
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