“I should not like to do this without his consent,” she murmured to herself: “and yet the prisoner is so penitent—so contrite, that it would be a sin—nay, a crime, not to confirm the salutary impression which is now so strong upon him. Yes—yes,” she continued: “I will take this step upon my own responsibility! Surely he will not blame me for thus exceeding his instructions, when the cause is so good and the need seems so urgent!”
Thus speaking, she took down a large key from a nail inside a cupboard, and retraced her way to the subterranean.
In the meantime—during the ten minutes which her absence lasted—Old Death was agitated by a thousand conflicting thoughts. At one moment an infernal joy filled his heart, and he rubbed his hands together in horrible and fiend-like glee: at the next instant his countenance became convulsed with the hideous workings of his fears lest something should occur to prevent the Jewess from entering his cell. He seemed to live an age in that ten minutes; and he felt that if the terrific excitement which he thus endured, were to last for an hour, it would crush and overwhelm him. All the worst passions of his diabolical nature were set in motion like the waves of the sea: and in that short space of time were awakened feelings which, for intensity of awful spite and inveterate malignity, were probably never before nor since paralleled in the breast of man!
At length there was a slight rustling of a silk dress and the sound of a gentle though hasty tread in the passage without; and in a few moments the beautiful countenance of the Jewess appeared at the grated aperture.
“Blessed young lady!” exclaimed Old Death, suddenly exercising an immense mastery over his ferocious passions, and assuming a tone of mingled gratitude and hope.
“Heaven grant that the step which I am now taking may have a permanently beneficial effect!” said the Jewess, in a voice profoundly sincere, as she placed the key in the lock.
Then, with her gentle hands, she drew back the massive bolts; and in another moment she entered the dungeon in which the greatest miscreant that ever disgraced human nature was crouched upon the bed, like a tiger ready to spring from its lair.
For upwards of a minute this dreadful man could scarcely believe his eyes—could scarcely credit his own senses. Was it possible that she was there—there, in his presence—there, in his power? It appeared to be a dream; and a momentary dizziness seized upon him.
“Give me the Bible,” said the Jewess, taking the chair; “and do you draw near me.”
“Here is the book,” observed Old Death, in a deep tone which might well be mistaken for the sign of solemn feelings, and was indeed so interpreted.