ness to let her see him, without more legal certainty as to what his sentence, or reprieve, is to be. By to-morrow morning, if I have properly understood her story, which was a little confused”
“She is so dreadfully tired, poor creature,” put in Miss Monro, who never could bear the shadow of a suspicion that Ellinor was not wisest, best, in all relations and situations of life.
Mr. Johnson went on, with a deprecatory bow: “Well then—it really is the only course open to her besides,—persuade her to rest for this evening. By to-morrow morning I will have obtained the sheriff’s leave, and he will most likely have heard from London.”
“Thank you! I believe that will be best.”
“It is the only course,” said he.
When Miss Monro returned to the bedroom, Ellinor was in a heavy feverish slumber: so feverish and so uneasy did she appear, that, after the hesitation of a moment or two, Miss Monro had no scruple in wakening her.
But she did not appear to understand the answer to her request; she did not seem even to remember that she had made any request.
The journey to England, the misery, the surprises, had been too much for her. The morrow morning came, bringing the formal free pardon for Abraham
