“Good morning, good lady, and to your young companion. How bright and beautiful the day is! How does the world look beyond these walls? Beautiful, I dare say; glorious far beyond any thought of mine, for I have almost forgotten what robe the earth wears in summer time. Yet it is full of delight even on this arid sand, and between these burning walls. And so, young lady,”--and James Woodruff turned his dark eyes upon Fanny's countenance as he spoke in a more jesting, yet melancholy strain,--“you have come to look at me as a curiosity and a show?” “Oh, no, sir!” exclaimed she in a hurried tone, and with her face deepening with blushes, “I--I--I am very glad to see you, sir.” “Are you?” exclaimed Woodruff earnestly. “Then Heaven bless that heart, and reward you with its choicest gifts, for feeling glad to see such an unfortunate thing as I! Glad to see me! Why, that is more than any one has said these many years! Forgive me, young woman; but in your face I see over again the good angel that delivered Peter from his dungeon, and it is a blessing to my eyes to look upon one like you. I am not mad, young lady; indeed I am not. Nay, do not shrink. I would dash this head against the wall sooner than dream of injury to you. I had a wife once at your age: your youth brings her back again, till I could think she had come from heaven to plead for me! I have been here twenty winters,--I have given up all my land and money--everything but life--for liberty, and have still been basely deceived! Now do not, for the love of God, and of justice! do not doubt me. I am not mad. I never was. I was stolen from my home, and from my daughter--a child--a little child.” Fanny's brain grew dizzy. She clung to her companion for support. “Let us go, my dear,” said Mrs. Rowel. “You cannot bear it. James, why do you talk so?” “I will not go!” cried Fanny eagerly, and struggling hard to rally herself “Tell me your name--your name!” added she, addressing the captive. “Woodruff!” cried the poor prisoner. Fanny's glazed eyes were fixed on him for an instant,--she sprung forwards with a shriek, and fell at full length on the ground, and as though dead, at his feet! Mrs. Rowel and the unfortunate James Woodruff stood equally astonished. The latter attempted to raise Fanny: he could not--his arms were bound--and he laughed. But the next instant, as he requested the mistress of the mansion to do so, he stooped over the insensible body before him, and burst into a flood of tears. “Who is she?” he demanded. “What soul of beauty is it?” “I do not know, James,” replied the lady; “she is a stranger to me.” “Would that I could touch her cheek with my finger!” said Woodruff. “She is good--good indeed!” In the mean time Robson had answered the call of Mrs. Rowel, and come to her assistance.