"I wouldn't be overly quick about that," said he, cautiously.

"No danger!" was the prompt reply.

"For I tell _you_, of all the places I ever see, that prison makes me
feel the queerest. I believe it's one reason I let the flower-garden go
so long," owned Sandy. He did not speak these words without an effort;
and never had Elizabeth seen him so solemn. She also was grave,--but
not after his manner of gravity.

"You see what I did with the poor flower-beds, Sandy," said she. "Wait
now till you see what happens to the prison."

But it is one thing to purpose, and another to execute. Far easier for
Elizabeth to declare than to conduct an heroic design. One thing
prevented rest day and night,--the knowledge that Laval's intended
resignation must be followed by a new application and appointment. With
such a degree of sympathy had the condition of the captive inspired
her, that the idea of the bare possibility of cruelty or neglect or
brutality assuming the jailer's authority seemed to lay upon her all
the responsibility of his future. She must act, for she dared not
hesitate.

One evening Adolphus took his horn, and, attended by wife and child,
went out to walk. He meant to send a strain from the highest of the
accessible coast-rocks. But Elizabeth changed his plan. The time was
good for what she had to say. Instead of expending his enthusiasm on a
flourish of notes, he was called upon to manifest it in a noble
resolution.