“Pray, Miss Merton, do me a favor—you had always a kind heart Ask that man what has become of Mr. Eden—he will answer you.”
“Mr. Robinson,” cried Susan, “I have no need to ask Mr. Fry. I am staying at Mr. Eden's house. He is very ill, Mr. Robinson.”
“Ah! I feared as much! he never would have deserted me else. What is the trouble?”
“You may well say trouble! it is the prison that has fretted him to death,” cried Susan, half bitterly, half sorrowfully.
“But he will get well! it is not serious?” inquired Robinson anxiously.
Fry pricked his ears.
“He is very ill, Mr. Robinson,” and Susan sighed heavily.
“I'll pray for him. He has taught me to pray—all the poor fellows will pray for him that know how. Miss Merton, good for nothing as I am, I would die for Mr. Eden this minute if I could save his life by it.”
Susan thought of this speech afterward. Now she but said, “I will tell him what you say.”
“And won't you bring me one word back from his dear mouth?”