committed upon those who had been stamped with the image of the
Almighty.

"This is a case of Shakspearean madness," said Dr. Radcliffe, pausing
before the barred and grated cell that held a half-nude woman. It was a
little box of a place, with a rude bedstead in one corner, filthy beyond
the power of water to cleanse. The occupant sat on a little bench in
another corner, with her eyes rolled up to Jim's in a tragic expression,
which would make the fortune of an actress. He felt of his hair,
impulsively.

"How are ye now? How do ye feel?" inquired Jim, tenderly.

She gave him no answer, but glared at him as if she would search the
very depths of his heart.

"If ye'll look t'other way, ye'll obleege me," said Jim.

But the woman gazed on, speechless, as if all the soul that had left her
brain had taken up its residence in her large, black eyes.

"Is she tryin' to look me out o' countenance, Doctor?" Inquired Jim,
"'cause, if she is, I'll stand here and let 'er try it on; but if she
ain't I'll take the next one."

"Oh, she doesn't know what she's about, but it's a very curious form of
insanity, and has almost a romantic interest attached to it from the
fact that it did not escape the notice of the great bard."

"I notice, myself," said Jim, "that she's grated and barred."