I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!"
A graceful form bent over a printed page, and by the light of a waxen taper, devoured its startling contents. Ah, how awfully startling to the reader! for it was Louise Edson poreing over the disclosures of Col. Malcome's wickedness and crime. But, as she drew toward the close, a sudden ray of light struggled through the anguish and misery which had cast her features into utter darkness, when her eye first lighted on the glaring capitals of the criminal's name. Concealing the paper which contained the fearful tale of his guilt, she hastened to her own apartment.
As the shades of the following evening drew on, a female figure, wrapped in a large shawl, with her features closely veiled, stood at the iron door of the huge, black jail, and besought an entrance.
"Who do you wish to see?" demanded the jailer, in a coarse, rough tone, seeking to penetrate the veil with his impertinent eyes.
She breathed a low word in his ear. The man started.
"Is it possible you wish to behold a wretch like him?" exclaimed he.
The lady drew up her slight form with an air of dignity, and said, "Deliver my message, and bring me his answer!"
Awed by her manner, the jailer hastened his steps to obey her command.
The door of a gloomy cell on the second floor of the huge building opened with a harsh, grating sound, and the man stepped in and secured the door behind him. The prisoner, who was sitting beside a table, with pen and paper before him, turned round and fixed his eyes upon the intruder. "What do you want?" asked he. "When you use double bolts and bars to secure me, is it necessary to come every hour to see if I have not escaped?"
"I have not come to satisfy myself of your safety," returned the jailer, scowling on the speaker. "There's a woman at the outer door who wants to know if you will grant her a brief interview."