They sat down again opposite each other, and Adam said, tremulously,
"How did she seem when you left her, sir?"
"Don't ask me, Adam," Arthur said; "I feel sometimes as if I should go mad with thinking of her looks and what she said to me, and then, that I couldn't get a full pardon—that I couldn't save her from that wretched fate of being transported—that I can do nothing for her all those years; and she may die under it, and never know comfort any more."
"Ah, sir," said Adam, for the first time feeling his own pain merged in sympathy for Arthur, "you and me 'll often be thinking o' the same thing, when we're a long way off one another. I'll pray God to help you, as I pray him to help me."
"But there's that sweet woman—that Dinah Morris," Arthur said, pursuing his own thoughts, and not knowing what had been the sense of Adam's words, "she says she shall stay with her to the very last moment—till she goes; and the poor thing clings to her as if she found some comfort in her. I could worship that woman; I don't know what I should do if she were not there. Adam, you will see her when she comes back: I could say
