“We were very happy when we met at the inn, and all shook hands.  Dr. Long was, I think, the least at ease.  He had come in case this indictment had in any way failed, to bring his own matter forward, so that Maddox should not get off.  I do not like him very much, he seemed unable to be really hearty, and I think he must have once been harsh and now ashamed of it.  Then he was displeased at Colonel Keith’s absence, and could hardly conceal how much he was put out by the cause, as if he thought the Colonel had imposed himself on the family as next heir.  I hardly know how to send all this in the present state of things, but I believe you will wish to have it, and will judge how much Rachel will bear to hear.  Good night.—­Your affectionate Sister,

“Grace Curtis.”

“Gowanbrae,
Avonmouth,
August 3d, 11 P. M.

“Dear Keith,—­Before this day has ended you must have a few lines from the man whom your exertions have relieved from a stigma, the full misery of which I only know by the comfort of its removal.  I told you there was much that could never be restored.  I feel this all the more in the presence of all that now remains to me, but I did not know how much could still be given back.  The oppression of the load of suspicion under which I laboured now seems to me to have been intolerable since I have been freed from it.  I cannot describe how changed a man I have felt, since Beechum shook hands with me.  The full blackness of Maddox’s treachery I had not known, far less his cruelty to my child.  Had I been aware of all I could not have refrained from trying to bring him to justice; but there is no need to enter into the past.  It is enough that I owe to you a freed spirit, and new life, and that my gratitude is not lessened by the knowledge that something besides friendship urged you.  Ermine is indeed as attractive as ever, and has improved in health far more than I durst expect.  I suppose it is your all-powerful influence.  You are first with all here, as you well deserve, even my child, who is as lovely and intelligent as you told me, has every thought pervaded with ‘the Colonel.’  She is a sweet creature; but there was one who will never be retraced, and forgive me, Keith, without her, even triumph must be bitterness.—­Still ever most gratefully yours,

“Edward Williams.”

“August 3d, 11 P. M.

“Dearest Colin,—­The one sound in my ears, the one song in my heart is, ‘Let them give thanks.’  It is as if we had passed from a dungeon into sunshine.  I suppose it would be too much if you were here to share it.  They sent Rose in first to tell me, but I knew in the sound of their wheels that all was well.  What an evening we have had, but I must not write more.  Ailie is watching me like a dragon, and will not rest till I am in bed; but I can’t tell how to lose one minute of gladness in sleep.  Oh, Colin, Colin, truest of all true knights, what an achievement yours has been!”