Its
centre, and of course, its greatest width, came just over the
yawning gulf. I shrank back --but the closing walls pressed me
resistlessly onward. At length for my seared and writhing body there
was no longer an inch of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I
struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud,
long, and final scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the
brink --I averted my eyes --
There was a discordant hum of human voices! There was a loud blast
as of many trumpets! There was a harsh grating as of a thousand
thunders! The fiery walls rushed back! An outstretched arm caught my
own as I fell, fainting, into the abyss. It was that of General
Lasalle. The French army had entered Toledo. The Inquisition was in
the hands of its enemies.
-THE END-
.
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