a good, obedient child, and I am a happy attorney."

"And I am the most miserable woman in all England."

"Child," said the worthy lawyer, "your spirits have given way, because
they were strung so high. You need repose. Go to bed now, and sleep
twelve hours. Believe me, you will wake another woman."

"Ah! would I could!" cried Mrs. Gaunt, with all the eloquence of
despair.

Houseman murmured a few more consoling words, and then left her, after
once more exacting a promise that she would receive no more visits, but
go to bed directly. She was to send all intruders to him at the "Angel."

Mrs. Gaunt proceeded to obey his orders, and though it was but eight
o'clock, she made preparations for bed, and then went to her nightly
devotions.

She was in sore trouble, and earthly trouble turns the heart
heavenwards. Yet it was not so with her. The deep languor that oppressed
her seemed to have reached her inmost soul. Her beads, falling one by
one from her hand, denoted the number of her supplications; but, for
once, they were _preces sine mente dictae_. Her faith was cold, her
belief in Divine justice was shaken for a time. She began to doubt and
to despond. That bitter hour, which David has sung so well, and Bunyan,
from experience, has described in his biography as well as in his novel,
sat heavy upon her, as it had on many a true believer before her. So
deep was the gloom, so paralyzing the languor, that at last she gave up
all endeavor to utter words of prayer. She placed her crucifix at the
foot of the wall, and laid herself down on the ground and kissed His
feet, then, drawing back, gazed upon that effigy of the mortal
sufferings of our Redeemer.

"O anima Christiana, respice vulnera morientis,
pretium redemptionis."

* * * * *

She had lain thus a good half-hour, when a gentle tap came to the door.

"Who is that?" said she.

"Mrs. Menteith," the jailer's wife replied, softly, and asked leave to
come in.

Now this Mrs. Menteith had been very kind to her, and stoutly maintained
her innocence. Mrs. Gaunt rose, and invited her in.

"Madam," said Mrs. Menteith, "what I come for, there is a person below
who much desires to see you."

"I beg to be excused," was the reply. "He must go to my solicitor at the
'Angel,' Mr. Houseman."

Mrs. Menteith retired with that message, but in about five minutes
returned to say that the young woman declined to go to Mr. Houseman, an