LEGEND OF CHIRSTY ROSS—Continued.
The morning’s dawn brought back the returning footstep of Sarah. She brought with her Chirsty’s travelling-box with most of the things it contained.
“See,” said she, as she set down the box, “I have kept my word. So long as you behave, you shall find me disposed to treat you well. I know that you have been quiet all night, and, therefore, we shall try you for to-day with your hands unmuffled. But mind!” added the old woman with a fearful expression of eye, “if you should change for the worse, there are worse punishments for you than this leathern glove.”
“I thank you,” said Chirsty meekly; “I think you will have no occasion to resort to any such. I hope my uncle will be here to-day, and that a few moments of conversation with him will satisfy him that you may be released from any further trouble with me.”
“Your uncle!” cried Sarah, with an uncouth laugh. “But we shall see. Meanwhile, here comes water for you, and, by and by, you shall have breakfast.”
A little black-looking sharp-eyed girl now entered with a pitcher, basins, and towels. Sarah stood by to watch how her charge conducted herself, and, when the toilet was completed, the bed was made up, and the things removed, and soon afterwards breakfast was brought her, together with a common fir chair and a small table, and when she had finished her meal, she was again left to her own solitary meditations.
No sooner was all quiet, than Chirsty arose for the purpose of looking out of the window, that she might try at least to gain some knowledge of her position. She discovered that the walls of the building were extremely thick, that the window was powerfully barred with iron, and that a wooden shade projected over it from above, so as entirely to shut out any direct view outwards. By placing the chair near the window, however, and standing upon it, she commanded a limited view downwards between the sole and the lower edge of the wooden projection, and from this she was enabled to satisfy herself that her chamber was on one side of a narrow square court, for she saw the lower part of the buildings that inclosed the three other sides of it. Guessing from the windows that came within her view below, the court was surrounded with cells similar to her own. The startling fact now arose in her mind, that she had thus in one minute made herself as much acquainted with all the objects on which she could bring her eyes to bear from this her place of confinement, as she could do were she to occupy it for half a century. There was something chilling in the reflection, and her soul naturally began to pant in a tenfold degree for liberty. But that day passed away, and the next, and the next, and no kind uncle came to relieve her.
“Is there no message from my uncle?” said she at last, as Sarah came to her one morning.
“None!” said the old woman, somewhat more gruffly than usual.
“I would fain write a letter to him,” said Chirsty.