The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Borne in the arms of a couple of assistants, and preceded by Mrs. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity.
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