The sleep of that lady was deep but uneasy—such a slumber as might be supposed to fall upon the eyes of the criminal the night before his execution.
Her bosom heaved convulsively; and from her lips escaped a stifled sob as the three men entered the cell.
Chichester was about to place his hand upon her shoulder in order to arouse her, when she opened her eyes, and started up to a sitting posture on the bed.
"Villains!" she exclaimed: "would you murder me?"
"No such thing, my dear," said Chichester. "We have merely come to terminate this unpleasant business in the way proposed by Mr. Tidkins."
"The wretch!" cried Viola, casting a glance of doubt and uncertainty at both Tomlinson and the Resurrection Man.
"Ah! I dare say I am, ma'am, in your estimation," said Tidkins, coolly. "Oh! you needn't look at me in that way, ma'am. I will acknowledge that I am your keeper in this establishment; and that it's me who has been good enough to bring you food every night."
"The wretch!" again cried the unhappy lady, while a profound shudder seemed to convulse her whole frame as she surveyed the Resurrection Man from head to foot. "It is you, then," she continued, leaping from the bed, and confronting the miscreant, "it is you who have dared to practise upon my fears in a manner the most diabolical—the most cowardly;—you who have chosen the solemn hour of midnight for your visits, and who have come in a guise calculated to fill my mind with the most horrible imaginings!"
"Remember our agreement, ma'am," said Tidkins, sternly. "You pledged yourself to forget the past upon certain conditions: we are here to fulfil those conditions. Do you mean to keep your word? or must we leave you to your solitude?"
"Who is this gentleman?" demanded Viola, casting a penetrating glance upon Tomlinson.