She turned a resolute face southward. “Ask me nothing. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly.
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