Still she lay there all in a heap, suffering in a dulled, miserable way that was worse than sharpest pain.

She lay there stunned, overwhelmed, not caring if she ever rose again.
And so morning found her--when morning lifted a dull and leaden eye over the stormy sea.

It came gloomy and gray, rain falling still, wind whispering pitifully, and a sky of lead frowning down upon the drenched, dank earth and tossing, angry ocean.
All in a heap, as she had fallen, Mollie lay, her head resting on a chair, her poor golden ringlets tossed in a wild, disheveled veil, fast asleep.

Pitifully, as sleep will come to the young, be their troubles ever so heavy, sleep had sealed those beaming blue eyes, "not used to tears at night instead of slumber." Tears, Mollie had shed none--the blow that had fallen had left her far beyond that.
Nine o'clock struck; there was a tap at the prison door.

Dr.Oleander, thinking his patient's fast had lasted long enough, was coming with a bountiful breakfast.