Wetherall as his bed, where he could not betray himself, until he had an opportunity of speaking to him in private on the subject of the ten pounds; a thing he had neither had the means of accomplishing, nor the resolution to attempt.
But time crept on—the hour for the arrival of the mails passed—and an interval sufficient to admit of the éclaircissement at the office, and the police being sent in pursuit of him, elapsed also. The letter then could not have reached the postmaster, and there was another day left at his disposal; and perhaps another night; and then he might yet execute his first intention, and leave his shame and his sorrows behind him.
Under these circumstances, towards the middle of the day he ventured to rise and come down stairs, and he had not been long in the parlour, when his wife, who was standing at the window, announced the approach of Mr. Simpson.
With a cordial and friendly salutation the good man entered, and was pleased to learn that his protegées of the night before were still in bed, which Mrs. Wetherall thought the best place for them, at present, "for," said she, "although I have made no inquiries about her history yet, I am sure the poor things have been
