“I was prepared to see a great change in Viola’s appearance, but not for such a one as it was. Her face was as white as marble, and I never had seen such a look of anguish as was fixed on her countenance. She rose, as we entered, and offered me her hand--it was as cold as a lump of ice. “‘How is your health, Miss Bramlett?’ I inquired. “‘Very good, I thank you,’ was the faint reply. “I never was so embarrassed in my life, and Harry, poor fellow, stood like a statue, unable to aid me; he was more confused than I was. Lottie, however, came to my assistance promptly. “‘Sit down, Eddie; sit down, brother, and let us talk over old times, while Viola and I are at work. Here, Viola, hold the hank while I wind the thread on this ball.’ “Viola moved her seat so as to face Lottie, and held out her little white hands to receive the hank. “‘There, now; Eddie, you sit on this side, so I can look at you while I work; you have been away so long I have almost forgotten how you look. I declare, you look much better than you did when you went away; don’t you think he does, Viola?’ “‘Yes,’ she replied sadly. “I was delighted at Lottie’s skill in maneuvering to divert Viola and lead her into conversation; it was a clever piece of strategy, and, to some extent, succeeded. The jailer was an old school-mate of Harry’s, and this proved to be a fortunate circumstance, as it enabled us to secure for Viola a large room, well lighted and ventilated. Harry had caused the floor to be covered with a costly carpet of the most exquisite texture, and heavy damask curtains hung over the windows; then over the damask were hung others of snow-white lace. A bureau, wash-stand, wardrobe and bedstead of polished rosewood gave the room a cozy appearance, while a sofa with red silk cushions seemed to invite the weary body to lie down and rest. On the bureau sat two large china vases, both filled with choice flowers. One rocking-chair, with soft velvet cushions, and two common cane bottom chairs constituted the furniture that Harry had caused to be put in the room. He had even had a costly curtain hung over the heavy iron door, in order to hide from Viola’s sight everything calculated to remind her that she was a prisoner. There was nothing to be seen on the inside of the room that looked like the walls of a prison, but it was more like a sleeping apartment. Lottie had been no less thoughtful than her brother of Viola’s comfort, for she had brought old Roderick to the jail, and that chatty bird usually made things lively wherever he went. A pair of canaries occasionally enlivened the room with a song, from the little silver-mounted cage that sat on the top of the wardrobe. All these pets had been brought there by Lottie.