“Yes, Miss, do so if you please, as the storm is rising, and it is getting late, and the roads is horrid between here and the gaol,” said the constable, showing signs of impatience.
“Ah, wait! pray wait until Mr. Montrose returns. He went to ask the magistrates if I might be confined here until morning,” pleaded Eudora.
“Do your duty, officer! Why do you stand arrested by the prayers of that evil girl? She did not fear to commit crime, she should not fear to meet its consequences. Do your duty at once, for every moment she is permitted to remain beneath this honored roof is an outrage to the memory of those whom she has hurried to their early graves,” said the doctor, sternly.
The constable still hesitated, and Eudora still stood with pale face, intense eyes, and clasped hands, silently imploring delay, when the door opened, and Malcolm Montrose entered with the order of the magistrates, commanding Eudora Leaton to be locked in the chamber, under strict guard, until the morning.
“Thank you, thank you! Oh, thank you for this short respite, dear Malcolm!” exclaimed the poor girl, bursting into tears of relief.
Malcolm pressed her hand in silence, and then whispered to her to hope.
The doctor really trembled with rage.
“Very well,” he said, “I will see at least, that her present prison is secure. Madame Pezzilini, will your highness condescend to withdraw from the room?” he added, turning respectfully to the princess.
“Good-night, Eudora; repent and pray,” said the princess, and bowing graciously to Mr. Montrose and to the doctor, she withdrew.
“Leave the room, and go about your several businesses every man and woman of you! I want this room to myself and the constable,” was the next stern order of the doctor to the assembled domestics.