Dalhousie could make no reply. His emotions were too powerful to permit
his utterance. Maddened by despair, into which the terrible situation of
his cherished wife had plunged him, he paced the jail with long strides,
gazing about him, as if to seek some desperate remedy for his woes.
Escape had scarcely presented itself to his mind. He had not the energy
of character which rises superior to every ill, and had bent himself
supinely to the fate which awaited him. To work through the solid walls
of the jail seemed to him an impossibility, even if provided with the
necessary implements. The scheme was too vast for his mind,
unaccustomed, as it was, to contend with great difficulties.
Despair seemed to create, at this moment, a new man within him, armed
with energy to break through every obstacle which might oppose him. His
feeble, suffering companion demanded an effort for her relief, and such
a demand even his supine nature could not resist.
Near one side of the jail was a shallow pit, which had, apparently, been
quite recently excavated.
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