"I mean to leave for Richmond by to-night's stage-coach, taking with me the original attested medical report and the petition for her pardon. I mean to travel day and night, so as to lay the documents before the governor at the earliest possible moment. And as soon as he shall have acted upon them I shall leave Richmond for this place, travelling day and night until I bring you her pardon or her respite."
"How shall I thank you? What words can express how much--" began Mr. Berners, with emotion; but Ishmael Worth scarcely heard him. He had stepped across the room and touched the bell-pull.
"Send my attendant here," he said to the waiter who appeared at the door.
A few moments elapsed, and a venerable old negro man of stately form and fine features, with a snow-white head and beard, and dressed quite like a gentleman--a sort of an ideal Roman senator carved in ebony, entered the room, bowed, and stood waiting.
"Be so kind as to pack my portmanteau, professor. I go to Richmond by the nights coach."
The "professor" bowed again, and then respectfully inquired:
"No, professor. I must travel day and night without stopping. Such haste would be too harassing to a man of your age."
The old servitor bowed, and withdrew to obey.
"He," said Ishmael Worth, pointing affectionately to the retreating form of the professor, "is not only my faithful attendant, but my oldest and most esteemed friend."
"He is happy in possessing your esteem and friendship, Mr. Worth, and no doubt he deserves both," said Lyon Berners.
"He deserves much more," murmured Ishmael softly, with one of the old, sweet, thoughtful smiles shining in his eyes.
Then Mr. Berners, who would have liked to linger longer near this sympathizing friend, who was working so zealously in the almost hopeless cause of his imprisoned wife, saw that the young lawyer had many preparations to make for his sudden journey, and but little time to make them in; and so he arose and shook hands with Ishmael Worth, and bade him God-speed in his humane errand, and left the room.
Mr. Berners returned to his most desolate home; took, by his physician's advice a powerful narcotic, and slept the sleep of utter oblivion, and waked late on the next morning more refreshed than he had felt for many weeks past.