“Oh, Malcolm, do you think he will?” cried Eudora, with clasped hands.
“I shall know, dearest, in twenty-four hours. I shall take the first train, to London, that starts at ten o’clock. I came here to see you before setting out, and to implore you to trust in God, to pray to him, and to keep up your spirits until I return.”
“Will you be gone long?” asked Eudora, still clinging to his hands.
“Two or three days perhaps; but I will write to you by every mail, and telegraph you the moment I get a favorable answer.”
“Oh, may God speed your errand!” she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands.
“Amen. And now, dear one, I have but twenty minutes to catch the train. Eudora, in parting with you for a short time, I would recommend you to see the chaplain of the prison. He is a truly righteous man, and his conversation will do you good.”
“I will see him, if only to please you,” she answered.
“And, now, dear one, good-bye for the present, and may the Father of the fatherless, and the God of the innocent, watch over you!” said Malcolm, lifting her hands to his lips with reverential tenderness before leaving the cell.
Half an hour later Malcolm, with the petition in his pocket, was steaming onward in the express train for London.
It was soon known throughout the town that Mr. Montrose had gone to the city with a memorial to the Crown for a respite or commutation of Eudora Leaton’s sentence; but not one human being that discussed the subject believed for one instant that his desperate enterprise could possibly be successful.