It has been said that John Wilmeter was left by his uncle at Bilberry, to look after the welfare of their strange client. John, or Jack, as he was commonly called by his familiars, including his pretty sister, was in the main a very good fellow, though far from being free from the infirmities to which the male portion of the human family are subject, when under the age of thirty. He was frank, manly, generous, disposed to think for himself, and what is somewhat unusual with his countrymen, of a temperament that led him to make up his mind suddenly, and was not to be easily swayed by the notions that might be momentarily floating about in the neighbourhood. Perhaps a little of a spirit of opposition to the feeling that was so rapidly gaining head in Biberry, inclined him to take a warmer interest in the singular female who stood charged with such enormous crimes, than he might otherwise have done. The instructions left by Mr. Dunscomb with his nephew, also gave the latter some uneasiness. In the first place, they had been very ample and thoughtful on the subject of the prisoner’s comforts, which had been seen to in a way that is by no means common in a gaol. Money had been used pretty freely in effecting this object, it is true; but, out of the large towns, money passes for much less on such occasions, in America, than in most other countries. The people are generally kind-hearted, and considerate for the wants of others; and fair words will usually do quite as much as dollars. Dunscomb, however, had made a very judicious application of both, and beyond the confinement and the fearful nature of the charges brought against her, Mary Monson had very little to complain of in her situation. The part of his instructions which gave John Wilmeter most uneasiness, which really vexed him, related to the prisoner’s innocence or guilt. The uncle distrusted; the nephew was all confidence. While the first had looked at the circumstances coolly, and was, if anything, leaning to the opinion that there might be truth in the charges; the last beheld in Mary Monson an attractive young person of the other sex, whose innocent countenance was the pledge of an innocent soul. To John, it was preposterous to entertain a charge of this nature against one so singularly gifted. “I should as soon think of accusing Sarah of such dark offences, as of accusing this young lady!” exclaimed John to his friend Michael Millington, while the two were taking their breakfast next day. “It is preposterous—wicked—monstrous, to suppose that a young, educated female, would, or could, commit such crimes! Why, Mike, she understands French and Italian, and Spanish; and I think it quite likely that she can also read German, if, indeed, she cannot speak it!” “How do you know this?—Has she been making a display of her knowledge?”