entered the room.

Beatrix being fully awakened, turned anxiously to look at her friend.

Sybil was lying also wide awake, but very quiet.

"What sort of a place is this, Beatrix?" she inquired, and then
immediately relapsed into lethargy, as if she had forgotten her
question.

"Thank Heaven!" fervently exclaimed Sybil's friend, "she is still
shielded."

"Which of you two ladies is in for it?" inquired the warden's daughter,
coming forward.

"We are both 'in for it,'" answered Beatrix, a little scornfully, "and
one of us is about as guilty as the other."

"Oh, I didn't know that," muttered the woman, who took the lady's words
in good faith. "I didn't know there was more than one concerned; but
what I meant to ask was, which is Mrs. Berners? Because there is a trunk
come for her, which father thinks it contains clothes and other
necessaries that she may need at once."

"Very likely. Let your father push it through the door, and I will see
to its contents. And oh! for Heaven's sake, my good woman, let us have
some breakfast as soon as possible," entreated Miss Pendleton.

The woman promised to comply with her request, and left the room.

The trunk was pushed in, and the door closed, locked, and bolted again.

Beatrix went to examine the consignment. There was a letter directed to
Mrs. Berners, unsealed and tied to the handle, together with the key of
the trunk.

Beatrix took both off and carried them to her friend, saying "Here is
the key of a box that has come for you, and here is a letter, dear
Sybil, from your husband, I suppose; will you read it?"

Sybil opened the letter, gazed at it with dreamy eyes, and followed the
lines with her glances, but without taking in their meaning.

Sad enough this would have seemed to Miss Pendleton at any other time;
but now, every evidence of her friend's failing mind was welcome to her,
and to all who loved the unhappy young wife.

"Shall I read it for you, dear?" inquired Beatrix, tenderly, taking the
letter from her hand.

"Yes, read it," answered Sybil, rousing herself, for an instant, to some
little interest in the matter, and then sinking back into indifference.

Beatrix read aloud. The letter was only an earnestly affectionate
greeting from the husband to the wife, telling her that he had sent her
a box of needful articles, and that he himself would come to see her as
soon as the doors should be opened to visitors. It was a cautiously
written letter, so wo