On proceeding to the bed Colin found old Jerry lying all of a heap, his white hair covered with blood from a wound on the top, and himself apparently senseless. There was no time to be lost. He therefore left his friend Roger and Mr. Veriquear to assist the old man, at the same time instructing them very carefully to secure him if he should attempt to escape from them; while he himself went in search of the cavern, or whatever else it might be, where Mr. Woodruff was confined. As the best guide to this, he demanded in a loud voice, “Mr. Woodruff!—where are you?—where are you?”
There was no reply. Again he repeated those words, but in a state of feeling which left him almost unconscious of all he said or did.
“Here—here I am!” at length was answered in a melancholy tone, from an inner place far backhand apparently beyond a door of very small dimensions, securely fastened into the rock, and bound with heavy iron.
Colin flew to the spot whence the sound proceeded. The door was as fast as the rock it was built in. He madly strove to burst it, but with as little effect as the rain might beat against a precipice of adamant. Almost in a frenzy of excitement he rushed back, and scarcely knowing what he did, searched the cottage for the key. At last he found it under Jerry's pillow.
Colin rapidly hastened again to the door,—he inserted the key,—he turned it. A damp sweat stood upon his brow, and his eyeballs seemed almost to blaze, but their sight was nearly gone. He seized the handle, dashed the door open, and beheld James Woodruff standing with his hands chained together before him.
“You are free!” cried Colin, almost hysterically,—“free!—free!” He could but repeat that word; to him there was then no other in the language—“You are free!”
Poor James looked at him doubtfully,—madly, I might say,—and replied, “Do not play with me, whoever you are. It is cruel to trifle with sorrow like mine.”
“You are free!” again cried Colin. “Come forth!—you are free!”
James looked at him as though those deep black eyes, which yet had lost none of their lustre, would pierce to the very centre of his soul, and asked, “Is it—is it true?”
“It is!” exclaimed Colin, “as God is good!”