How long this lasted she never could tell.
_Time_ and _thirst_ are two things you and I talk about; but the
victims whom holy men and righteous judges used to stretch on their
engines knew better what they meant than you or I!--What is that great
bucket of water for? said the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, before she
was placed on the rack.--_For you to drink_,--said the torturer to the
little woman.--She could not think that it would take such a flood to
quench the fire in her and so keep her alive for her confession. The
torturer knew better than she.
After a time not to be counted in minutes, as the clock
measures,--without any warning, there came a swift change of his
features; his face turned white, as the waters whiten when a sudden
breath passes over their still surface; the muscles instantly relaxed,
and Iris, released at once from her care for the sufferer and from his
unconscious grasp, fell senseless, with a feeble cry,--the only
utterance of her long agony.
Perhaps you sometimes wander in through the iron gates of the Copp's
Hill burial-ground.
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