“You are there, dear mother. I know your footstep so well, though it is weaker than usual. And if I did not know your footsteps, I should know your sigh. Dear mother, do not grieve for me. I am happy—reverently be it spoken—as Peter was in prison.” “My darling Elsie, here is something I have written for you. I will push it under the bottom of the door. Take it, darling, read it. Try to compose your mind, and be ready for me very soon. I must go now, dear, for when you begin to read that you will find I have a great deal to prepare. Good-by, for an hour, my dear.” Alice then went down, entered her chamber, and rang for Milly; then she went to her drawers and caskets, and got together all the jewelry that she possessed, to the amount of several thousand dollars, and all Elsie’s, that amounted to several thousand more, and placed them in one strong casket. Then she searched her purse and pocketbook, and took out all the money she had in possession, a few hundred dollars, and put it in a strong packet. Then she sent Milly into Elsie’s vacant chamber, and had all her clothing collected and packed into two large, strong traveling trunks. Next, she sent for a man-servant to come and lock and strap them down before her face. Lastly, she received the keys from him, and told him to procure assistance, take the trunks down, put them into a cart, carry them over to Huttontown, and leave them at Mr. Fig’s, with a request from her that he would keep them until they were called for. When Alice had done this she was told that a man wished to see her in the hall. She went out, and found the locksmith with his tools. She bade him to follow her, and led the way up into the attic, and to the door of Elsie’s prison. She stopped there, and turning to the locksmith, said: “Pick this lock.” No sooner said than done. The man put in his instrument and unlocked it with as much ease as though he had used a key. “There, thank you, sir! you need not open the door. Please to retire now. Milly, my girl, will settle with you downstairs,” said Alice, who did not by any means wish to “reveal the secrets of that prison-house.” The man bowed, gathered his tools, and went downstairs. Alice opened the door, and was instantly locked in the arms of her daughter. Fearing to lose her courage and presence of mind, perhaps trembling for the strength of her purpose, too, Alice did not venture to indulge these enervating endearments, but hastened to say: “You read and understood my note, my dear Elsie?” “Yes, mother.” “You know, then, what is about to take place?” “Yes, dear mother.” “Come, then, my child, we must be quick. I expect Magnus here with the license and the minister every minute. Your trunks are already packed and sent off to Huttontown. Where are your diamonds, Elsie? I did not see them among your jewelry. They are the greatest portion of your dower now, my child. Where are they? I wish to put them into a casket that I have packed for you.”