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 shall have freedom, if woman can ask or man can give it."

She had advanced a single step towards him, in thus speaking. She
stood now with hands folded, quiet, waiting his answer.

"Noble girl!" he began; then he paused. Full of reverence was his
gaze.

"Do not praise,--direct me," she said, hurriedly. "I know what I