Good-by, my dear
young sir - good-bye!"
The dungeon-door swung to with a tremendous bang Sir Norman was
barred in his prison to await his doom and the dwarf was skipping
along the passage with sprightliness, laughing as he went.
CHAPTER XIII.
ESCAPED.
Probably not one of you; my dear friends, who glance graciously
over this, was ever shut up in a dungeon under expectation of
bearing the unpleasant operation of decapitation within half an
hour. It never happened to myself, either, that I can recollect;
so, of course, you or I personally can form no idea what the
sensation may be like; but in this particular case, tradition
saith Sir Norman Kingsley's state of mind was decidedly
depressed. As the door shut violently, he leaned against it, and
listened to his jailers place the great bars into their sockets,
and felt he was shut in, in the dreariest, darkest, dismalest,
disagreeablest place that it had ever been his misfortune to
enter. He thought of Leoline, and reflected that in all
probability she was sleeping the sleep of the just - perhaps
dreaming of him, and little knowing that his head was to be cut
off in half an hour.
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