He was moody and unhappy in his contracted prison cell, and grew cross and nervous as the long days wore on.
One thing wore on him more than aught else. He had seen and heard nothing of Jennie Arlington. How was his disgrace going to affect her? He did not believe that she could turn from him for an unproved crime, but she was under the direct influence of his enemies, and what stories might not be told, and what arguments brought to bear on her?
He was fully aware of the natural conclusion from his persistent silence, and could not blame people for distrusting his innocence. But he had fondly hoped that she had more confidence in him, and would not turn away from him so lightly.
But as the days wore on and she came not he began to fear that she was lost to him, and to grow miserably unhappy in consequence.
Another thing seemed to annoy him. Some of his friends kept aloof from him, one in particular of whom he had had a very exalted opinion, and whose absence caused him much mental disquiet. He finally sent a message to this man, Jesse Powers by name, with an urgent request to have him come to the prison and see him.
It failed in its effect. His friend was out of town and did not get his epistle.
It was nearly the end of the first week in prison life when the door of his cell was one morning unlocked, and a new visitor admitted.
He sat disconsolate and moody, fretting in spirit at the defection of his betrothed, when he lifted his eyes and saw her standing before him, her eyes full of love and sympathy.
“Oh, John!” was her piteous exclamation.
He sprung to his feet with new life, clasped her in his arms, and rained kisses on her distressed face.