He tossed the accusing flowers into the grate, took his riding-whip and went down to the door, where his horse was champing the bit, and pawing with impatience.  Along the deserted streets, out of the sleeping town, he rode toward the long stone bridge that spanned the winding river.  When he had reached the centre, his horse darted aside, because of the sudden leap of a black cat from the coping of the nearest pier, whence she sped on, keeping just ahead of him.  The spectral sickle of a waning moon hung on the edge of the sky, and up and down the banks of the stream floated phantoms of silvery mist, here covering the water with impalpable wreaths, and there drifting away to enable Andromeda to print her starry image on the glassy surface.

Behind stretched the city, marked by lines of gas lamps; in front rose the hill clothed with forests; and frowning down upon the rider, the huge shadow of the dismal dungeon crouched like a stealthy beast ready to spring upon him.  Dark as the deeds of its inmates, the mass of stone blotted the sky, save in one corner, where a solitary light shone through iron lattice work.  Was it a beacon of hope, or did the rays fall on features cold under the kiss of death?

Spurring his horse up the rocky hill, Mr. Dunbar was greeted by the baying of two bloodhounds within the enclosure; and soon after, Mr. Singleton conducted him up the steps leading to the room where Beryl had been placed.

“She is alive; that is all.  The doctor said she could not last till midnight, but it is now half-past one; and my wife has never lost hope.  She has sent the nurse off to get some sleep, and you will find Susie in charge.”

The hazel eyes of the gaoler’s wife were humid with tears, as she glanced up at the attorney, and motioned him to the low chair she vacated.

“I knew you would come, and when I heard you gallop across the bridge, I sent Sister Serena off to bed.  There is nothing to be done now, but watch and pray.  If she ever wakes in this world she will be rational, and she will get well.  The nurse thinks she will pass away in this stupor; but I have faith that she will not die, until she clears her name.”

Nature makes some women experts in the fine art of interpreting countenance and character, and by a mysterious and unerring divination, Mrs. Singleton knew that her visitor desired no companion in his vigils; hence, after flitting about the room for a few moments, she added: 

“If you will sit here a while, I can look after my babies.  Should any change occur, tap at my door; I shall not be long away.”