Never had John Wilmeter been at a greater loss to interpret facts, than he was on quitting the grate. The prisoner was truly the most incomprehensible being he had ever met with. Notwithstanding the fearful nature of the charges against her—charges that might well have given great uneasiness to the firmest man—she actually seemed in love with her prison. It is true, that worthy Mrs. Gott had taken from the place many of its ordinary, repulsive features; but it was still a gaol, and the sun could be seen only through grates, and massive walls separated her that was within, from the world without. As the young man was predisposed to regard everything connected with this extraordinary young woman _couleur de rose_, however, he saw nothing but the surest signs of innocence in several circumstances that might have increased the distrust of his cooler-headed uncle; but most persons would have regarded the gentle tranquillity that now seemed to soothe a spirit that had evidently been much troubled of late, as a sign that her hand could never have committed the atrocities with which she was charged. “Is she not a sweet young thing, Mr. Wilmeter?” exclaimed kind Mrs. Gott, while locking the doors after John, on his retiring from the grate. “I consider it an honour to Biberry gaol, to have such a prisoner within its walls!” “I believe that you and I stand alone in our favourable opinion of Miss Monson,” John answered; “so far, at least, as Biberry is concerned. The excitement against her seems to be at the highest pitch; and I much doubt whether a fair trial can be had in the county.” “The newspapers won’t mend the matter, sir. The papers from town, this morning, are full of the affair, and they all appear to lean the same way. But it’s a long road that has no turning, Mr. Wilmeter.” “Very true, and nothing wheels about with a quicker step than the sort of public opinion that is got up under a cry, and runs itself out of breath, at the start. I expect to see Mary Monson the most approved and most extolled woman in this county, yet!” Mrs. Gott hoped with all her heart that it might be so, though _she_ had, certainly, misgivings that the young man did not feel. Half an hour after John Wilmeter had left the gaol, his friend, Michael Millington, was on the road to town, carrying a letter to Sarah, with a most earnest request that she would use all her influence with Marie Moulin to engage in the unusual service asked of her, for a few weeks, if for no longer a period. This letter reached its destination in due time, and greatly did the sister marvel over its warmth, as well as over the nature of the request. “I never knew John to write so earnestly!” exclaimed Sarah, when she and Michael had talked over the matter a few moments. “Were he actually in love, I could not expect him to be more pressing.”