"I must wait for the tray," said she; and she took her usual stand
by the window. "Eat something to please my mother,--she will be so
troubled."

At this he took his spoon and tasted the porridge, which had grown
cold in the dish before him.

Now, as she stood there waiting, a curious state of mind was that
through which Elizabeth passed. When he answered her greeting, it
was with less apparent weariness, less exhibition of sad
indifference to all things, than usual,--with some animation, indeed;
not at all as one speaks who is dead to every hope. And with this
utterance, which on any other day would have lightened the burden
Elizabeth bore, a new darkening of the spirit of heaviness seemed to
fall upon her. She knew that by her he must have come to--whatever
hopefulness he had; and she would give him freedom that she might
see his face no more!

"There is no crucifixion without pain." It is never with a light
heart that man or woman attends his or her own immolation. There is
awful terror in the triumphs of the divine human nature. If, indeed,
_Suttee_ is noiseless, superstition and force have stifled the
voice of the widow.

And therefore the words which Elizabeth only by an effort restrained,
as she crossed the prison-threshold, could come from her now by
effort only. If she had found him drooping, despairing, utterly cast
down,--no hinderance then to a full utterance of the heroic purpose
which death alone could dampen or defeat! But now some strength
seemed in himself--and liberty would give him to others, of whom he
could not think as quietly as he could think of her. Could she, then,
better afford to weep than to rejoice with him?

Before he had pushed away the table and its contents, before time
constrained her to speak, she said,--

"I promised you something, Mr. Manuel. You remember what. I may go
tomorrow. So tell me,--how shall I serve you best? Tell me now;
something may happen; and I wish my work to be clear."

The prisoner started from the table at these words. He hastily
approached the quiet speaker, his face brightened not more by hope
than by wondering admiration.

"What do you mean?--tomorrow? I am waiting, Elizabeth."

"Colonel Farel and his lady are going home. He has leave of absence.
I have spoken to my father and mother. I have told my mother
everything. She knows that I am going to visit your relations as
well as hers. Tell me how I shall find them. Tell me what I must do.
You sh