him for a moment, but only whatever might be best
for Ave.

In this frame Henry had left him, and late in the afternoon, Dr. May
had contrived to despatch his work and make his way to the jail, where,
as he entered, he encountered the chaplain, Mr. Reeve, a very worthy,
but not a very acute man. Pausing to inquire for the prisoner, he was
met by a look of oppression and perplexity. The chaplain had been with
young Ward yesterday evening, and was only just leaving him; but then,
instead of the admiring words the Doctor expected, there only came a
complaint of the difficulty of dealing with him; so well instructed, so
respectful in manner, and yet there was a coldness, a hardness about
him, amounting to sullenness, rejecting all attempts to gain his
confidence, or bring him to confession.

Dr. May had almost been angry, but he bethought himself in time that
the chaplain was bound to believe the verdict of the court; and
besides, the good man looked so grieved and pitiful, that it was
impossible to be displeased with him, especially when he began to hope
that the poor youth might be less reserved with a person who knew him
better, and to consult Dr. May which of the Stoneborough clergy had
better be written to as likely to be influential with him. Dr. May
recommended Mr. Wilmot, as having visited the boy in his illness, as
well as prepared him for Confirmation; and then, with a heavier load of
sadness on his heart, followed the turnkey on his melancholy way.

When the door was opened, he saw Leonard sitting listlessly on the side
of his bed, resting his head on his hand, entirely unoccupied; but at
the first perception who his visitor was, he sprang to his feet, and
coming within the arms held out to him, rested his head on the kind
shoulder.

'My dear boy--my brave fellow,' said Dr. May, 'you got through
yesterday nobly.'

There was none either of the calmness or the reserve of which Dr. May
had been told, in the hot hands that were wringing his own, nor in the
choking struggling voice that tried to make the words clear--'Thank you
for what you said--And dear Aubrey--how is he?'

'I came away at six, before he was awake,' said the Doctor; 'but he
will not be the worse for it, never fear! I hope his evidence was less
trying than you and he expected.'

Leonard half smiled. 'I had forgotten that,' he said, 'it was so long
ago! No, indeed--the dear fellow was--like a bright spot in that
day--only--only it broug