“I do not doubt it,” said the doctor, with a smile,—­a luxury in which he rarely indulged.  “I am afraid your presence will agitate him.”

“Let me watch over him while he sleeps.  He need not know I am near.”

“Rather difficult to manage, but you shall see him.  Will you return with me?”

“Thank you, I will.  But poor Mrs. Swinger!” and a shade of anxiety crossed her features, as she thought of leaving her kind hostess in affliction.

“Her husband is a good nurse, and understands her case better than you do.  If I mistake not, your services will be full as acceptable at my cottage.”

Dr. Vaudelier tried to smile at this sally; but the effort was too much for him, and he sank under it.

Emily, though sorry to leave her protectress, was drawn by the irresistible magnetism of affection to Cottage Island.  She compromised between the opposing demands of duty by promising herself that she would again visit the wood-yard.

She embarked with Dr. Vaudelier, and they were soon gliding down the mighty river on their way to Cottage Island.  Emily had wished Hatchie to accompany her, as much for his safety as for her own; but the faithful fellow desired to stay at the wood-yard.  They had before had an interview in relation to the will.  Uncle Nathan, who had been made the custodian of it, had not been seen or heard from, and her case again seemed to be desperate.  Hatchie assured her of his safety, and of his good faith.  He had left him in the hold, and, with common prudence, the worthy farmer might have made his escape unharmed.  Emily, who now regarded her devoted servant in the light of a guardian angel, had entire confidence in his reasoning and conclusions.  Of Hatchie’s motive in remaining at the wood-yard she had no conception.  If she had had, she would probably have insisted on his attendance.

After the departure of Dr. Vaudelier and Emily, Hatchie went to the cabin, and took therefrom a carpet-bag belonging to Maxwell,—­an article which, even in the hurry of his exit from the steamer, he had not omitted to take.  With this in his hand, he proceeded to the out-building, to satisfy himself of the security of his prisoners; but Vernon had fled,—­the wooden door of the shed had not been proof against his art.  Hatchie was not disconcerted by this incident.  Vernon, he was aware, was only a subordinate, who did his evil deeds for hire, and against him he bore no ill will.  But it immediately occurred to him that the ruffian might have liberated Maxwell, and this would have utterly deranged his present plans.  Taking from the shed a long rope, he proceeded to the other side of the cabin, where he had secured the attorney to the tree.  To his great satisfaction he found the prisoner secure.  Vernon did not see him, or was too intent on his own safety to bestow a thought upon his late employer.