The morning after the trial, on waking, he stirred curiously, and then it suddenly came to him that he was no longer in the free and comfortable atmosphere of his own bedroom, but in a jail-cell, or rather its very comfortable substitute, a sheriff’s rented bedroom.  He got up and looked out the window.  The ground outside and Passayunk Avenue were white with snow.  Some wagons were silently lumbering by.  A few Philadelphians were visible here and there, going to and fro on morning errands.  He began to think at once what he must do, how he must act to carry on his business, to rehabilitate himself; and as he did so he dressed and pulled the bell-cord, which had been indicated to him, and which would bring him an attendant who would build him a fire and later bring him something to eat.  A shabby prison attendant in a blue uniform, conscious of Cowperwood’s superiority because of the room he occupied, laid wood and coal in the grate and started a fire, and later brought him his breakfast, which was anything but prison fare, though poor enough at that.

After that he was compelled to wait in patience several hours, in spite of the sheriff’s assumption of solicitous interest, before his brother Edward was admitted with his clothes.  An attendant, for a consideration, brought him the morning papers, and these, except for the financial news, he read indifferently.  Late in the afternoon Steger arrived, saying he had been busy having certain proceedings postponed, but that he had arranged with the sheriff for Cowperwood to be permitted to see such of those as had important business with him.

By this time, Cowperwood had written Aileen under no circumstances to try to see him, as he would be out by the tenth, and that either that day, or shortly after, they would meet.  As he knew, she wanted greatly to see him, but he had reason to believe she was under surveillance by detectives employed by her father.  This was not true, but it was preying on her fancy, and combined with some derogatory remarks dropped by Owen and Callum at the dinner table recently, had proved almost too much for her fiery disposition.  But, because of Cowperwood’s letter reaching her at the Calligans’, she made no move until she read on the morning of the tenth that Cowperwood’s plea for a certificate of reasonable doubt had been granted, and that he would once more, for the time being at least, be a free man.  This gave her courage to do what she had long wanted to do, and that was to teach her father that she could get along without him and that he could not make her do anything she did not want to do.  She still had the two hundred dollars Cowperwood had given her and some additional cash of her own—­perhaps three hundred and fifty dollars in all.  This she thought would be sufficient to see her to the end of her adventure, or at least until she could make some other arrangement for her personal well-being.  From what she knew of the feeling of her family for her, she felt that the agony would all be on their side, not hers.  Perhaps when her father saw how determined she was he would decide to let her alone and make peace with her.  She was determined to try it, anyhow, and immediately sent word to Cowperwood that she was going to the Calligans and would welcome him to freedom.