I think we all wept with her. Yet it was astonishing to see with what quiet dignity she spoke, resuming, at a moment's notice, the air not only of a gentlewoman, which she had never lost, but of one who is no longer troubled by being in a false position, and can command, as well as receive, respect. I saw before me a great city lady, as she had been trained and brought up to be. Small though she was, her dignity made her tall--as her unmerited sufferings and patience made her great. Sir Miles laid his hand on the poet's shoulder. "Great heaven!" he cried. "Canst thou weep any more over the misfortunes of Clarissa, with this poor lady's sorrows in thy recollection?" The Doctor wiped his eyes. But for those backslidings which we have already lamented, what an admirable character, how full of generosity, how full of sympathy, how kind of heart, was my uncle! "Pray, madam," he said, "be seated again. Will you take another glass of wine?" "No, Doctor," she replied. "This is now no case for the help of wine. Pray finish the story of your benevolent care." "Why, madam, as for benevolence," he said, "I have but done what Sir Miles Lackington or Solomon Stallabras"--the poet spread his arms and tapped his breast--"would have done, had they possessed the power of doing; what, indeed, this crying slip of a girl would have done had she known how. Benevolence! Are we, then, Old Bailey prisoners, chained by the leg until the time comes for us to go forth to Tyburn Tree? Are we common rogues and vagabonds, that have no bowels? Can such a life as yours be contemplated with unmoved eyes? Is Sir Miles a Lovelace for hardness of heart? or Solomon Stallabras a salamander? Am I a Nero? Nay, madam, speak no more of benevolence. Know, then, that of all the people whom the conduct of the villain Christopher March with regard to your affairs injured, but two are left alive. The heirs of the rest are scattered and dispersed. These two have prospered, and are generous as well as old; their hearts melted at the tale of suffering; they have agreed together to give back to you, not only the security which keeps you here, but also a formal release of your debt to them; you can go whenever you please." "Why, then," shouted Sir Miles, grasping the bottle, "we can drink her----" "Stay," said the Doctor. "There is one thing more. This generous gift restores to you, not only liberty, but also your father's country estate in Hertfordshire, worth six hundred pounds a year. And here, madam, are the papers which vouch for all. You have now your own estate, and are once more a gentlewoman of fortune and position." She took the papers, and held them grasped tightly in her lap. "And now, gentlemen," said the Doctor, gently taking the bottle from the baronet's hand, "we will drink--you, too, Kitty, my dear, must join--a happy new year to Mrs. Esther Pimpernel." They drank it with no more words; and Sir Miles fell on his knees and kissed her hand, but without speaking aught.