“No, I thank you,” said Kate, coldly.
“Very good, ma’am.”
The woman went back to the door, and Kate’s last hope of her turning a friend to help her died out, for she heard her sigh and say softly, evidently to be heard:
“Poor dear master; it’s very sad.”
“Good-night!” said Kate, involuntarily repeating the woman’s words. “God help me and protect me through the long night watches, and inspire me with the thought that shall bring me help. How can I dare to sleep?”
The answer came from Nature—imperative, and who knew no denial; for once more the prisoner awoke, wondering to find that it was morning and that she must have slept for many hours in a chair.
Chapter Forty.
In the hope that an opportunity would soon come, and to be ready at any moment, one of Kate’s first acts that morning was to write plainly a few words on a sheet of paper, begging Becky to post her letter, and inclosing it with the note in another envelope, which she directed to the woman herself. This she placed in the fold of her dress, where she could draw it out directly, and waited.