“Certainly; on no other—though what it was that took him away so suddenly, I have not been told. I trust you will be able to overturn all that these Burtons have said, and to repair the mischief they have done?” “Fear nothing for me, Miss Wilmeter,” answered the prisoner, with singular steadiness of manner—“I tell you, as I have often told your friend, _I must be acquitted_. Let justice take its course, say I, and the guilty be punished. I have a clue to the whole story, as I believe, and must make provision for to-morrow. Do you two, dear, warm-hearted friends as you are, now leave me; and when you reach the inn, send Mr. Dunscomb hither, as soon as possible. Not that Timms; but noble, honest, upright Mr. Dunscomb. Kiss me, each of you, and so good night. Think of me in your prayers. I am a great sinner, and have need of your prayers.” The wishes of Mary Monson were obeyed, and the young ladies left the gaol for the night. Ten minutes later Dunscomb reached the place, and was admitted. His conference with his client was long, intensely interesting, and it quite unsettled the notions he had now, for some time, entertained of her guilt. She did not communicate any thing concerning her past life, nor did she make any promises on that subject; but she did communicate facts of great importance, as connected with the result of her trial. Dunscomb left her, at a late hour, with views entirely changed, hopes revived, and his resolution stimulated. He made ample entries in his brief; nor did he lay his head on his pillow until it was very late.