CHAPTER XI.
"How hideous and forlorn! when ruthless care,
With cankering tooth corrodes the seeds of life,
And deaf with passion's storms, when pines despair,
And howling furies rouse th' eternal strife,"
Beattie.
Silent, sad, and sullen, brooding over his past phrenzied feelings, and present desperate situation, Melliphant was conveyed by the bailiffs, in the discharge of their office, and safely placed in custody.
Left to himself, he would have been overwhelmed by all the horrors of despondency, had there not still remained for him an expedient by which he hoped to burst his fetters, and obtain his freedom ere the close of day.
He called for pen and ink, and wrote to Sir Howard. He begged of him not to delay a moment in coming to him with bail. He confided wholly upon his friendship, and abandoned himself to the hope of his timely assistance—to his exertions in behalf of his liberation; which, if not immediate, if not before the night closed in, he should not afterwards care what became of him, as existence would be intolerable. That if he did not receive a reply in reasonable time,
