Accordingly, the next morning Erminie ordered a carriage and took Alberta to the White House. But it happened that the President was even more than ordinarily engaged, and they failed to obtain an interview. This disappointment excited Alberta’s anxieties to the utmost pitch, and in her desperation, she vowed, that if she could not obtain the pardon of her husband she would do that which should place her by his side on the scaffold. These wild words greatly alarmed Erminie, who with much difficulty persuaded Alberta to come home with her. There a surprise met them in the shape of a paragraph in the morning’s papers announcing the escape of the famous Free Sword from Fort W. The joy of Alberta was now as excessive as her previous grief had been. She even apologized for her mad threats. Erminie persuaded her to take some refreshment and to go and lie down. And in truth the minister’s daughter was suffering great anxiety on account of the guerrilla’s wife. CHAPTER VII. ABOUT ALBERTA. The look, the air that frets thy sight May be a token that below The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe, Whose glances would scorch thy smiling grace, And cast the shuddering on thy face!—A. A. PROCTOR. Erminie, in the midst of all her distress about Alberta, felt also a growing anxiety concerning Britomarte. Another day was passing, and Miss Conyers had not made her appearance at the parsonage. Erminie feared that she was ill, and longed to go to her boarding-house to see her, but dared not to leave home while so doubtful a guest as the guerrilla’s wife was under her roof, and while she was looking for the arrival of her pastor to consult with him as to what should be done in the case of Alberta. It is true that she might have sent a messenger to inquire after Britomarte, but in the momentary expectation of Dr. Sales’ call, she hoped to get the interview over in time to visit her friend in person. She also hoped that Britomarte herself might make her appearance. So she waited, and the day wore on to the dinner hour. And she now began to think that Alberta was sleeping very long—unusually long, even for an exhausted traveller. It was more than four hours since she had lain down. Erminie stole softly up to her chamber, noiselessly opened the door and peeped in. The room was quiet and shaded, and the white curtains were drawn around the bed as she had left them; so she softly closed the door and stole quietly down stairs again. The table was set in the dining-room, and Catherine was in the act of bringing up the soup, when Erminie met her in the hall. “You may keep the dinner back for a little while, Catherine. Madame Corsoni has not yet waked up,” she said. “Very well, Miss,” replied the girl, turning back towards the kitchen.