"Be pacified, sweet soul," said Wood, looking meaningly at Thames; "you shall go, and I will accompany you."
"A mother's blessing on you," replied Mrs. Sheppard, fervently. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son."
"Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father.
"By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant." And, followed by the young couple, who gazed wistfully at the poor sufferer, he hastily quitted the room, and locked the door after him.
Mrs. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!"
She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast.
"My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. Sheppard, returning his embrace with all a parent's tenderness.
Jack was completely overcome. His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks.
"I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness."
"And you must have risked much to obtain it, my love. I have scarcely recovered from the shock of hearing of your condemnation, when I behold you free!"