“Mrs. Richlin’,” said the widow, hurriedly, “yer husband’s alive and found.”
Mary seized her frantically by the shoulders, crying with high-pitched voice:—
“Where is he?—where is he?”
“Ya can’t see um till marning, Mrs. Richlin’.”
“Where is he?” cried Mary, louder than before.
“Me dear,” said Mrs. Riley, “ye kin easy git him out in the marning.”
“Mrs. Riley,” said Mary, holding her with her eye, “is my husband in prison?—O Lord God! O God! my God!”
Mrs. Riley wept. She clasped the moaning, sobbing wife to her bosom, and with streaming eyes said:—
“Mrs. Richlin’, me dear, Mrs. Richlin’, me dear, what wad I give to have my husband this night where your husband is!”