“Heavens and airth! you don’t say so?” exclaimed Uncle Nathan.

“Doomed to a death by starvation, with my wife, in yonder jail, by his malice, I have just effected my escape.  My wife is nearly dead, but I hope to restore her with these fruits.”

“Good Heavens! who would have thought there was such a monster upon the airth?”

“By the powers!” ejaculated Pat Fegan.

“Can’t we help you?” asked Uncle Nathan.

“Perhaps you can.  I thank you, and, if it is not too late, she also will thank you.  My strength is nearly gone.”

Dalhousie, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, proceeded towards the jail, the former relating, as they went, the terrible incidents of their captivity, and the means by which he had effected their happy deliverance.

On the night of the explosion of the Chalmetta’s boiler, Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan had saved their lives by jumping overboard, and had been picked up by the Flatfoot.  The true-hearted New Englander had made a diligent search for the parties who had intrusted the will in his keeping, but without success.  He had been enabled to gain no tidings of any of them, and was now continuing his search to the mansion of the Dumont family.

The party reached the jail, and Dalhousie leaped into the pit, followed by his companions.  The poor wife seemed to have no realization of the event which had set them free, and gazed with a wild stare upon her husband and those who accompanied him.

“We are safe, Delia! we are safe!” said Dalhousie, as he proceeded to untie the bundle of fruit.

“Safe! no, it cannot be—­only a dream!  But who are these persons?”

“They are friends, Delia—­friends who have come to help me in saving you.  Take one of these figs, dear.  They will restore you.”

“Figs!” replied Delia, with a vacant look.

“Yes, dearest; taste it,”—­and he placed the fruit, which he had divested of its rind, to her lips.

The act seemed to restore her wandering mind to its equilibrium, and she painfully lifted herself on the pallet of straw, and took the fruit in her hand.  She gazed upon it with a kind of silent rapture, while a faint smile rested upon her pallid lips.

“We are indeed safe, if you have found food,”—­and she tasted the fig.

“Eat it all, dear; here are plenty more, and melons, too.”

“Let me see you eat, Francois; it will do me more good than to eat myself.  You have labored hard.  Can we get out of this place?  Are not these Mr. Dumont’s friends?  Have they come to fill up the pit you have dug?”

“No, dearest, they are our friends,” said Dalhousie, pained by the wandering, wild state of her mind, and fearful that it might end in insanity.  “We will leave this place as soon as you have eaten some of these figs and melons.  I am almost restored by the joy of this moment, dearest; and you must strive to be of good cheer.”