"Bessy, Miss Wilkins has fainted; she has had a long journey, and is in a fidget about Dixon, the old fellow who was sentenced to be hung for that murder, you know. I can't stop here, I must go back to those men. You bring her round, and see her to bed. The blue room is empty since Horner left. She must stop here, and I'll see her in the morning. Take care of her, and keep her mind as easy as you can, will you, for she can do no good by fidgeting." And, knowing that he left Ellinor in good hands, and with plenty of assistance about her, he returned to his friends. Ellinor came to herself before long. "It was very foolish of me, but I could not help it," said she, apologetically. "No; to be sure not, dear. Here, drink this; it is some of Mr. Johnson's best port wine that he has sent out on purpose for you. Or would you rather have some white soup--or what? We've had everything you could think of for dinner, and you've only to ask and have. And then you must go to bed, my dear--Mr. Johnson says you must; and there's a well-aired room, for Mr. Horner only left us this morning." "I must see Mr. Johnson again, please." "But indeed you must not. You must not worry your poor head with business now; and Johnson would only talk to you on business. No; go to bed, and sleep soundly, and then you'll get up quite bright and strong, and fit to talk about business." "I cannot sleep--I cannot rest till I have asked Mr. Johnson one or two more questions; indeed I cannot," pleaded Ellinor. Mrs. Johnson knew that her husband's orders on such occasions were peremptory, and that she should come in for a good conjugal scolding if, after what he had said, she ventured to send for him again. Yet Ellinor looked so entreating and wistful that she could hardly find in her heart to refuse her. A bright thought struck her. "Here is pen and paper, my dear. Could you not write the questions you wanted to ask? and he'll just jot down the answers upon the same piece of paper. I'll send it in by Jerry. He has got friends to dinner with him, you see." Ellinor yielded. She sat, resting her weary head on her hand, and wondering what were the questions which would have come so readily to her tongue could she have been face to face with him. As it was, she only wrote this: "How early can I see you to-morrow morning? Will you take all the necessary steps for my going to Dixon as soon as possible? Could I be admitted to him to-night?" The pencilled answers were: "Eight o'clock. Yes. No." "I suppose he knows best," said Ellinor, sighing, as she read the last word. "But it seems wicked in me to be going to bed--and he so near, in prison."