Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. I speak no harm of her. " "No.
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