sun to the shivering jail-bird. I remember him heroic. Heroic at this moment will I hold him to be.
He asked me, smiling, why I cared for his letter so very much. I thought, but did not say, that I prized it like the blood in my veins. I only answered that I had so few letters to care for.
"I am sure you did not read it", said he, "or you would think nothing of it!"
"I read it, but only once. I want to read it again. I am sorry it is lost". And I could not help weeping afresh.
"Lucy, Lucy, my poor little god-sister (if there be such a relationship), here—here is your letter. Why is it not better worth such tears, and such tenderly exaggerating faith?"
Curious, characteristic manœuvre! His quick eye had seen the letter on the floor where I sought it: his hand, as quick, had snatched it up. He had hidden it in his waistcoat pocket. If my trouble had wrought with a whit less stress and reality, I doubt whether he would ever have acknowledged or restored it. Tears of temperature one degree cooler than those I shed would only have amused Dr. John.
Pleasure at regaining made me forget merited reproach for the teasing torment; my joy was great; it could not be concealed; yet I think it broke out more in countenance than language. I said little.
"Are you satisfied now?" asked Dr. John.
I replied that I was—satisfied and happy.
"Well then", he proceeded, "how do you feel physically? Are you growing calmer? Not much; for you tremble like a leaf still".
It seemed to me, however, that I was sufficiently calm, at least I felt no longer terrified. I expressed myself composed.
"You are able, consequently, to tell me what you saw? Your account was quite vague, do you know? You looked white as the wall, but you only spoke of 'something', not defining what. Was it a man? Was it an animal? What was it?"
"I never will tell exactly what I saw", said I, "unless some else sees it too, and then I will give corroborative testimony; but otherwise, I shall be discredited and accused of dreaming".
"Tell me", said Dr. Bretton; "I will hear it in my profes-
