And, oh! how Fannie knelt, and covered the lady's hands with loving kisses, and bathed them with grateful tears. And Mrs. Waring, when she left her, went directly to the most eminent lawyer in the city--one who had indignantly repulsed a clergyman who wished to retain him for the prisoner--and, after telling him very much what she had told Fannie relative to the character of her own testimony, succeeded in retaining him to defend Valentine; for this gentleman seemed to think that the favorable opinion and testimony of Mrs. Waring would make a very great difference in the respectability, popularity and security of the cause that he no longer hesitated to embrace. Of course, there was much diversity of opinion in regard to Mrs. Waring's course. All wondered at her, many censured her, while a few saw in her conduct the perfection of Christian charity. But, like all who have thought and suffered much, and profited by such experience, Mrs. Waring was indifferent to any earthly judgment outside the sphere of her own affections; and so, ignorant and regardless of popular praise or censure, the lady went calmly on her merciful course. The day of the sitting of the court drew near, when, one morning, a bustle in the gallery leading to Valentine's cell attracted the attention of the latter, and he had just concluded that the officials were bringing in a new prisoner, when the noisy group paused before his own door, unlocked it, and introduced Governor, Major Hewitt's big negro. With a few parting words, the turnkey and the constable left him, went out, and locked the door. Then, for the first time, Valentine recovered from his surprise, and spoke to the newcomer. But Governor, standing bolt upright until his tall figure and large head nearly reached the low ceiling, looked the image of stupor, and answered never a word. Valentine knew, of course, that he was in desperate trouble, or he would not be in that cell. Kindly taking his hand, he led him to the bed, and made him sit down upon it. He was as docile as the gentlest child, though seemingly more stupid than any brute. And it was hours before he recovered sufficiently to tell Valentine the cause of his arrest. The story gathered from his thick and incoherent talk was this: He himself was a huge, black, unsightly negro, painfully conscious of his personal defects. He was married to Milly, a pretty mulatto woman, whom he loved with the idolatrous affection that often distinguishes his race, and who had loved him in return, for the wealth of goodness under his rude exterior. And he had been very happy with his wife and two little girls, until the new overseer came. This person was a young, unmarried man, and his name was Moriarty. He took a fancy to Milly; used to stop every day at the door of her cabin, to ask for a drink of water; then, after a while, he got into the habit of going into her cabin to sit down and rest, and was never in a hurry to go away.