“I will send for the doctor; but no one else, not even Mr. Montrose, must be permitted to see her while she is in this precarious state.”
And calling a turnkey who happened to be passing, he dispatched him for the medical attendant of the prison. The messenger had scarcely departed when Malcolm Montrose was heard approaching, attended by another turnkey. The gaoler, who was on the watch, went out to turn him back. Meeting him, he took his arm, and walked him off to a distant part of the lobby, where he paused to say to the astonished and half-offended young man:
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Montrose; I am very sorry to stop you, but the truth is, that ever since the death-warrant was read to that poor young creature yesterday afternoon, her courage has entirely given way, and she has been in such a precarious state that I fear the least accession of excitement might prove instantly fatal to her; and under these circumstances I dare not admit anyone, even yourself, to her cell until after our doctor has seen her.”
“But I have the sheriff’s order,” urged Malcolm.
“Still I beg that you will not press it, sir. It is for her sake only that I entreat you to refrain until the doctor has made his visit.”
“I see the necessity of doing as you advise. But oh, Heaven! when, when will her long-drawn sufferings cease! It is but a few weeks since her arrest, yet since that day ages and ages of torture seem to have passed! Would to Heaven it were over for her!” exclaimed Malcolm, wildly.
“Try to compose yourself, Mr. Montrose. Come down to my room, and take something strong.”
“I thank you, I require nothing; but with your consent I will go and sit in your office until I hear the doctor’s report,” answered Malcolm, accompanying the governor to the ward-room below, but refusing the refreshment that Mr. Anderson still pressed upon his acceptance.
Meanwhile Dr. Moss, the physician in ordinary to the prison, proceeded to the condemned cell.
Dr. Moss was a tall, fair-skinned, gray-haired old man, whom forty years’ connection with the prison, and constant ministration to the worst forms of human suffering among the most desperate criminals of both sexes had not hardened, but rather softened; had not rendered harsh, obdurate and unfeeling, but rather tender, sympathetic, and compassionate.