upfor
it
.
"
Mary
covered
her
eyes
with
her
hands
,
as
if
to
shade
them
from
the
light
,
and
Esther
herself
,
less
accustomed
to
self-command
,
was
getting
too
much
agitated
for
calm
observation
of
another
.
"
I
was
taking
a
walk
near
Turner
Street
,
and
I
went
to
see
the
spot
,
"
continued
Esther
,
"
and
,
as
luck
would
have
it
,
I
spied
this
bit
of
paper
in
the
hedge
,
"
producing
the
precious
piece
still
folded
in
her
hand
.
"
It
has
been
used
as
wadding
for
the
gun
,
I
reckon
;
indeed
,
that
's
clear
enough
,
from
the
shape
it
's
crammed
into
.
I
was
sorry
for
the
murderer
,
whoever
he
might
be
(
I
did
n't
then
know
of
Jem
's
being
suspected
)
,
and
I
thought
I
would
never
leave
a
thing
about
as
might
help
,
if
ever
so
little
,
to
convict
him
;
the
police
are
so
'
cute
about
straws
.
So
I
carried
it
a
little
way
,
and
then
I
opened
it
and
saw
your
name
,
Mary
.
"
Mary
took
her
hands
away
from
her
eyes
,
and
looked
with
surprise
at
her
aunt
's
face
,
as
she
uttered
these
words
.
She
was
kind
after
all
,
for
was
she
not
saving
her
from
being
summoned
,
and
from
being
questioned
and
examined
;
a
thing
to
be
dreaded
above
all
others
:
as
she
felt
sure
that
her
unwilling
answers
,
frame
them
how
she
might
,
would
add
to
the
suspicions
against
Jem
;
her
aunt
was
indeed
kind
,
to
think
of
what
would
spare
her
this
.
Esther
went
on
,
without
noticing
Mary
's
look
.
The
very
action
of
speaking
was
so
painful
to
her
,
and
so
much
interrupted
by
the
hard
,
raking
little
cough
,
which
had
been
her
constant
annoyance
for
months
,
that
she
was
too
much
engrossed
by
the
physical
difficulty
of
utterance
,
to
be
a
very
close
observer
.
"
There
could
be
no
mistake
if
they
had
found
it
.
Look
at
your
name
,
together
with
the
very
name
of
this
court
!
And
in
Jem
's
hand-writing
too
,
or
I
'm
much
mistaken
.
Look
,
Mary
!
"
And
now
she
did
watch
her
.
Mary
took
the
paper
and
flattened
it
;
then
suddenly
stood
stiff
up
,
with
irrepressible
movement
,
as
if
petrified
by
some
horror
abruptly
disclosed
;
her
face
,
strung
and
rigid
;
her
lips
compressed
tight
,
to
keep
down
some
rising
exclamation
.
She
dropped
on
her
seat
,
as
suddenly
as
if
the
braced
muscles
had
in
an
instant
given
way
.
But
she
spoke
no
word
.
"
It
is
his
hand-writing
—
is
n't
it
?
"
asked
Esther
,
though
Mary
's
manner
was
almost
confirmation
enough
.
"
You
will
not
tell
.
You
never
will
tell
,
"
demanded
Mary
,
in
a
tone
so
sternly
earnest
,
as
almost
to
be
threatening
.
"
Nay
,
Mary
,
"
said
Esther
,
rather
reproachfully
,
"
I
am
not
so
bad
as
that
.
Oh
!
Mary
,
you
cannot
think
I
would
do
that
,
whatever
I
may
be
.
"
The
tears
sprang
to
her
eyes
at
the
idea
that
she
was
suspected
of
being
one
who
would
help
to
inform
against
an
old
friend
.
Mary
caught
her
sad
and
upbraiding
look
.
"
No
!
I
know
you
would
not
tell
,
aunt
.
I
do
n't
know
what
I
say
,
I
am
so
shocked
.
But
say
you
will
not
tell
.
Do
.
"
"
No
,
indeed
I
will
not
tell
,
come
what
may
.
"
Mary
sat
still
,
looking
at
the
writing
,
and
turning
the
paper
round
with
careful
examination
,
trying
to
hope
,
but
her
very
fears
belying
her
hopes
.
"
I
thought
you
cared
for
the
young
man
that
's
murdered
,
"
observed
Esther
,
half
aloud
;
but
feeling
that
she
could
not
mistake
this
strange
interest
in
the
suspected
murderer
,
implied
by
Mary
's
eagerness
to
screen
him
from
any
thing
which
might
strengthen
suspicion
against
him
.
She
had
come
,
desirous
to
know
the
extent
of
Mary
's
grief
for
Mr.
Carson
,
and
glad
of
the
excuse
afforded
her
by
the
important
scrap
of
paper
.
Her
remark
about
its
being
Jem
's
hand-writing
,
she
had
,
with
this
view
of
ascertaining
Mary
's
state
of
feeling
,
felt
to
be
most
imprudent
the
instant
after
she
uttered
it
;
but
Mary
's
anxiety
that
she
should
not
tell
was
too
great
,
and
too
decided
,
to
leave
a
doubt
as
to
her
interest
for
Jem
.
She
grew
more
and
more
bewildered
,
and
her
dizzy
head
refused
to
reason
.
Mary
never
spoke
.
She
held
the
bit
of
paper
firmly
,
determined
to
retain
possession
of
it
,
come
what
might
;
and
anxious
,
and
impatient
,
for
her
aunt
to
go
.
As
she
sat
,
her
face
bore
a
likeness
to
Esther
's
dead
child
.
"
You
are
so
like
my
little
girl
,
Mary
!
"
said
Esther
,
weary
of
the
one
subject
on
which
she
could
get
no
satisfaction
,
and
recurring
,
with
full
heart
,
to
the
thought
of
the
dead
.
Mary
looked
up
.
Her
aunt
had
children
,
then
.
That
was
all
the
idea
she
received
.
No
faint
imagination
of
the
love
and
the
woe
of
that
poor
creature
crossed
her
mind
,
or
she
would
have
taken
her
,
all
guilty
and
erring
,
to
her
bosom
,
and
tried
to
bind
up
the
broken
heart
.
No
!
it
was
not
to
be
.
Her
aunt
had
children
,
then
;
and
she
was
on
the
point
of
putting
some
question
about
them
,
but
before
it
could
be
spoken
another
thought
turned
it
aside
,
and
she
went
back
to
her
task
of
unravelling
the
mystery
of
the
paper
,
and
the
hand-writing
.
Oh
!
how
she
wished
her
aunt
would
go
.
As
if
,
according
to
the
believers
in
mesmerism
,
the
intenseness
of
her
wish
gave
her
power
over
another
,
although
the
wish
was
unexpressed
,
Esther
felt
herself
unwelcome
,
and
that
her
absence
was
desired
.
She
felt
this
some
time
before
she
could
summon
up
resolution
to
go
.
She
was
so
much
disappointed
in
this
longed-for
,
dreaded
interview
with
Mary
;
she
had
wished
to
impose
upon
her
with
her
tale
of
married
respectability
,
and
yet
she
had
yearned
and
craved
for
sympathy
in
her
real
lot
.
And
she
had
imposed
upon
her
well
.
She
should
perhaps
be
glad
of
it
afterwards
;
but
her
desolation
of
hope
seemed
for
the
time
redoubled
.
And
she
must
leave
the
old
dwelling-place
,
whose
very
walls
,
and
flags
,
dingy
and
sordid
as
they
were
,
had
a
charm
for
her
.
Must
leave
the
abode
of
poverty
,
for
the
more
terrible
abodes
of
vice
.
She
must
—
she
would
go
.
"
Well
,
good-night
,
Mary
.
That
bit
of
paper
is
safe
enough
with
you
,
I
see
.
But
you
made
me
promise
I
would
not
tell
about
it
,
and
you
must
promise
me
to
destroy
it
before
you
sleep
.
"
"
I
promise
,
"
said
Mary
,
hoarsely
,
but
firmly
.
"
Then
you
are
going
?
"
"
Yes
.
Not
if
you
wish
me
to
stay
.
Not
if
I
could
be
of
any
comfort
to
you
,
Mary
;
"
catching
at
some
glimmering
hope
.
"
Oh
,
no
,
"
said
Mary
,
anxious
to
be
alone
.
"
Your
husband
will
be
wondering
where
you
are
.
Some
day
you
must
tell
me
all
about
yourself
.
I
forget
what
your
name
is
?
"
"
Fergusson
,
"
said
Esther
,
sadly
.
"
Mrs.
Fergusson
,
"
repeated
Mary
,
half
unconsciously
.
"
And
where
did
you
say
you
lived
?
"
"
I
never
did
say
,
"
muttered
Esther
;
then
aloud
,
"
In
Angel
's
Meadow
,
145
,
Nicholas
Street
.
"
"
145
,
Nicholas
Street
,
Angel
Meadow
.
I
shall
remember
.
"
As
Esther
drew
her
shawl
around
her
,
and
prepared
to
depart
,
a
thought
crossed
Mary
's
mind
that
she
had
been
cold
and
hard
in
her
manner
towards
one
,
who
had
certainly
meant
to
act
kindly
in
bringing
her
the
paper
(
that
dread
,
terrible
piece
of
paper
)
and
thus
saving
her
from
—
she
could
not
rightly
think
how
much
,
or
how
little
she
was
spared
.
So
,
desirous
of
making
up
for
her
previous
indifferent
manner
,
she
advanced
to
kiss
her
aunt
before
her
departure
.
But
,
to
her
surprise
,
her
aunt
pushed
her
off
with
a
frantic
kind
of
gesture
,
and
saying
the
words
,
"
Not
me
.
You
must
never
kiss
me
.
You
!
"
She
rushed
into
the
outer
darkness
of
the
street
,
and
there
wept
long
and
bitterly
.
CHAPTER
XXII
.
MARY
'S
EFFORTS
TO
PROVE
AN
ALIBI
.
"
There
was
a
listening
fear
in
her
regard
,
As
if
calamity
had
but
begun
;
As
if
the
vanward
clouds
of
evil
days
Had
spent
their
malice
,
and
the
sullen
rear
Was
,
with
its
stored
thunder
,
labouring
up
.
"
Keats
'
"
Hyperion
.
"
No
sooner
was
Mary
alone
than
she
fastened
the
door
,
and
put
the
shutters
up
against
the
window
,
which
had
all
this
time
remained
shaded
only
by
the
curtains
hastily
drawn
together
on
Esther
's
entrance
,
and
the
lighting
of
the
candle
.
She
did
all
this
with
the
same
compressed
lips
,
and
the
same
stony
look
that
her
face
had
assumed
on
the
first
examination
of
the
paper
.
Then
she
sat
down
for
an
instant
to
think
;
and
rising
directly
,
went
,
with
a
step
rendered
firm
by
inward
resolution
of
purpose
,
up
the
stairs
;
—
passed
her
own
door
,
two
steps
,
into
her
father
's
room
.
What
did
she
want
there
?
I
must
tell
you
;
I
must
put
into
words
the
dreadful
secret
which
she
believed
that
bit
of
paper
had
revealed
to
her
.
Her
father
was
the
murderer
!
That
corner
of
stiff
,
shining
,
thick
writing-paper
,
she
recognised
as
part
of
the
sheet
on
which
she
had
copied
Samuel
Bamford
's
beautiful
lines
so
many
months
ago
—
copied
(
as
you
perhaps
remember
)
on
the
blank
part
of
a
valentine
sent
to
her
by
Jem
Wilson
,
in
those
days
when
she
did
not
treasure
and
hoard
up
every
thing
he
had
touched
,
as
she
would
do
now
.
That
copy
had
been
given
to
her
father
,
for
whom
it
was
made
,
and
she
had
occasionally
seen
him
reading
it
over
,
not
a
fortnight
ago
she
was
sure
.
But
she
resolved
to
ascertain
if
the
other
part
still
remained
in
his
possession
.
He
might
,
it
was
just
possible
he
might
,
have
given
it
away
to
some
friend
;
and
if
so
,
that
person
was
the
guilty
one
,
for
she
could
swear
to
the
paper
anywhere
.
First
of
all
she
pulled
out
every
article
from
the
little
old
chest
of
drawers
.
Amongst
them
were
some
things
which
had
belonged
to
her
mother
,
but
she
had
no
time
now
to
examine
and
try
and
remember
them
.
All
the
reverence
she
could
pay
them
was
to
carry
them
and
lay
them
on
the
bed
carefully
,
while
the
other
things
were
tossed
impatiently
out
upon
the
floor
.
The
copy
of
Bamford
's
lines
was
not
there
.
Oh
!
perhaps
he
might
have
given
it
away
;
but
then
must
it
not
have
been
to
Jem
?
It
was
his
gun
.
And
she
set
to
with
redoubled
vigour
to
examine
the
deal-box
which
served
as
chair
,
and
which
had
once
contained
her
father
's
Sunday
clothes
,
in
the
days
when
he
could
afford
to
have
Sunday
clothes
.
He
had
redeemed
his
better
coat
from
the
pawn-shop
before
he
left
,
that
she
had
noticed
.
Here
was
his
old
one
.
What
rustled
under
her
hand
in
the
pocket
?
The
paper
!
"
Oh
!
Father
!
"
Yes
,
it
fitted
;
jagged
end
to
jagged
end
,
letter
to
letter
;
and
even
the
part
which
Esther
had
considered
blank
had
its
tallying
mark
with
the
larger
piece
,
its
tails
of
y
s
and
g
s.
And
then
,
as
if
that
were
not
damning
evidence
enough
,
she
felt
again
,
and
found
some
bullets
or
shot
(
I
do
n't
know
which
you
would
call
them
)
in
that
same
pocket
,
along
with
a
small
paper
parcel
of
gunpowder
.
As
she
was
going
to
replace
the
jacket
,
having
abstracted
the
paper
,
and
bullets
,
etc.
,
she
saw
a
woollen
gun-case
made
of
that
sort
of
striped
horse-cloth
you
must
have
seen
a
thousand
times
appropriated
to
such
a
purpose
.
The
sight
of
it
made
her
examine
still
further
,
but
there
was
nothing
else
that
could
afford
any
evidence
,
so
she
locked
the
box
,
and
sat
down
on
the
floor
to
contemplate
the
articles
;
now
with
a
sickening
despair
,
now
with
a
kind
of
wondering
curiosity
,
how
her
father
had
managed
to
evade
observation
.
After
all
it
was
easy
enough
.
He
had
evidently
got
possession
of
some
gun
(
was
it
really
Jem
's
;
was
he
an
accomplice
?
No
!
she
did
not
believe
it
;
he
never
,
never
would
deliberately
plan
a
murder
with
another
,
however
he
might
be
wrought
up
to
it
by
passionate
feeling
at
the
time
.
Least
of
all
would
he
accuse
her
to
her
father
,
without
previously
warning
her
;
it
was
out
of
his
nature
)
.
Then
having
obtained
possession
of
the
gun
,
her
father
had
loaded
it
at
home
,
and
might
have
carried
it
away
with
him
some
time
when
the
neighbours
were
not
noticing
,
and
she
was
out
,
or
asleep
;
and
then
he
might
have
hidden
it
somewhere
to
be
in
readiness
when
he
should
want
it
.
She
was
sure
he
had
no
such
thing
with
him
when
he
went
away
the
last
time
.
She
felt
it
was
of
no
use
to
conjecture
his
motives
.
His
actions
had
become
so
wild
and
irregular
of
late
,
that
she
could
not
reason
upon
them
.
Besides
,
was
it
not
enough
to
know
that
he
was
guilty
of
this
terrible
offence
?
Her
love
for
her
father
seemed
to
return
with
painful
force
,
mixed
up
as
it
was
with
horror
at
his
crime
.
That
dear
father
,
who
was
once
so
kind
,
so
warm-hearted
,
so
ready
to
help
either
man
or
beast
in
distress
,
to
murder
!
But
,
in
the
desert
of
misery
with
which
these
thoughts
surrounded
her
,
the
arid
depths
of
whose
gloom
she
dared
not
venture
to
contemplate
,
a
little
spring
of
comfort
was
gushing
up
at
her
feet
,
unnoticed
at
first
,
but
soon
to
give
her
strength
and
hope
.
And
that
was
the
necessity
for
exertion
on
her
part
which
this
discovery
enforced
.
Oh
!
I
do
think
that
the
necessity
for
exertion
,
for
some
kind
of
action
(
bodily
or
mental
)
in
time
of
distress
,
is
a
most
infinite
blessing
,
although
the
first
efforts
at
such
seasons
are
painful
.
Something
to
be
done
implies
that
there
is
yet
hope
of
some
good
thing
to
be
accomplished
,
or
some
additional
evil
that
may
be
avoided
;
and
by
degrees
the
hope
absorbs
much
of
the
sorrow
.
It
is
the
woes
that
cannot
in
any
earthly
way
be
escaped
that
admit
least
earthly
comforting
.
Of
all
trite
,
worn-out
,
hollow
mockeries
of
comfort
that
were
ever
uttered
by
people
who
will
not
take
the
trouble
of
sympathising
with
others
,
the
one
I
dislike
the
most
is
the
exhortation
not
to
grieve
over
an
event
,
"
for
it
cannot
be
helped
.
"
Do
you
think
if
I
could
help
it
,
I
would
sit
still
with
folded
hands
,
content
to
mourn
?
Do
you
not
believe
that
as
long
as
hope
remained
I
would
be
up
and
doing
?
I
mourn
because
what
has
occurred
cannot
be
helped
.
The
reason
you
give
me
for
not
grieving
,
is
the
very
and
sole
reason
of
my
grief
.
Give
me
nobler
and
higher
reasons
for
enduring
meekly
what
my
Father
sees
fit
to
send
,
and
I
will
try
earnestly
and
faithfully
to
be
patient
;
but
mock
me
not
,
or
any
other
mourner
,
with
the
speech
,
"
Do
not
grieve
,
for
it
cannot
be
helped
.
It
is
past
remedy
.
"
But
some
remedy
to
Mary
's
sorrow
came
with
thinking
.
If
her
father
was
guilty
,
Jem
was
innocent
.
If
innocent
,
there
was
a
possibility
of
saving
him
.
He
must
be
saved
.
And
she
must
do
it
;
for
was
not
she
the
sole
depository
of
the
terrible
secret
?
Her
father
was
not
suspected
;
and
never
should
be
,
if
by
any
foresight
or
any
exertions
of
her
own
she
could
prevent
it
.
She
did
not
yet
know
how
Jem
was
to
be
saved
,
while
her
father
was
also
to
be
considered
innocent
.
It
would
require
much
thought
and
much
prudence
.
But
with
the
call
upon
her
exertions
,
and
her
various
qualities
of
judgment
and
discretion
,
came
the
answering
consciousness
of
innate
power
to
meet
the
emergency
.
Every
step
now
,
nay
,
the
employment
of
every
minute
,
was
of
consequence
;
for
you
must
remember
she
had
learnt
at
Miss
Simmonds
'
the
probability
that
the
murderer
would
be
brought
to
trial
the
next
week
.
And
you
must
remember
,
too
,
that
never
was
so
young
a
girl
so
friendless
,
or
so
penniless
,
as
Mary
was
at
this
time
.
But
the
lion
accompanied
Una
through
the
wilderness
and
the
danger
;
and
so
will
a
high
,
resolved
purpose
of
right-doing
ever
guard
and
accompany
the
helpless
.
It
struck
two
;
deep
,
mirk
,
night
.
It
was
of
no
use
bewildering
herself
with
plans
this
weary
,
endless
night
.
Nothing
could
be
done
before
morning
:
and
,
at
first
in
her
impatience
,
she
began
to
long
for
day
;
but
then
she
felt
in
how
unfit
a
state
her
body
was
for
any
plan
of
exertion
,
and
she
resolutely
made
up
her
mind
to
husband
her
physical
strength
.
First
of
all
she
must
burn
the
tell-tale
paper
.
The
powder
,
bullets
,
and
gun-case
,
she
tied
into
a
bundle
,
and
hid
in
the
sacking
of
the
bed
for
the
present
,
although
there
was
no
likelihood
of
their
affording
evidence
against
any
one
.
Then
she
carried
the
paper
down
stairs
,
and
burnt
it
on
the
hearth
,
powdering
the
very
ashes
with
her
fingers
,
and
dispersing
the
fragments
of
fluttering
black
films
among
the
cinders
of
the
grate
.
Then
she
breathed
again
.
Her
head
ached
with
dizzying
violence
;
she
must
get
quit
of
the
pain
or
it
would
incapacitate
her
for
thinking
and
planning
.
She
looked
for
food
,
but
there
was
nothing
but
a
little
raw
oatmeal
in
the
house
:
still
,
although
it
almost
choked
her
,
she
ate
some
of
this
,
knowing
from
experience
,
how
often
headaches
were
caused
by
long
fasting
.
Then
she
sought
for
some
water
to
bathe
her
throbbing
temples
,
and
quench
her
feverish
thirst
.
There
was
none
in
the
house
,
so
she
took
the
jug
and
went
out
to
the
pump
at
the
other
end
of
the
court
,
whose
echoes
resounded
her
light
footsteps
in
the
quiet
stillness
of
the
night
.
The
hard
,
square
outlines
of
the
houses
cut
sharply
against
the
cold
bright
sky
,
from
which
myriads
of
stars
were
shining
down
in
eternal
repose
.
There
was
little
sympathy
in
the
outward
scene
,
with
the
internal
trouble
.
All
was
so
still
,
so
motionless
,
so
hard
!
Very
different
to
this
lovely
night
in
the
country
in
which
I
am
now
writing
,
where
the
distant
horizon
is
soft
and
undulating
in
the
moonlight
,
and
the
nearer
trees
sway
gently
to
and
fro
in
the
night-wind
with
something
of
almost
human
motion
;
and
the
rustling
air
makes
music
among
their
branches
,
as
if
speaking
soothingly
to
the
weary
ones
who
lie
awake
in
heaviness
of
heart
.
The
sights
and
sounds
of
such
a
night
lull
pain
and
grief
to
rest
.
But
Mary
re-entered
her
home
after
she
had
filled
her
pitcher
,
with
a
still
stronger
sense
of
anxiety
,
and
a
still
clearer
conviction
of
how
much
rested
upon
her
unassisted
and
friendless
self
,
alone
with
her
terrible
knowledge
,
in
the
hard
,
cold
,
populous
world
.
She
bathed
her
forehead
,
and
quenched
her
thirst
,
and
then
,
with
wise
deliberation
of
purpose
,
went
upstairs
,
and
undressed
herself
,
as
if
for
a
long
night
's
slumber
,
although
so
few
hours
intervened
before
day-dawn
.
She
believed
she
never
could
sleep
,
but
she
lay
down
,
and
shut
her
eyes
;
and
before
many
minutes
she
was
in
as
deep
and
sound
a
slumber
as
if
there
was
no
sin
nor
sorrow
in
the
world
.
She
awakened
,
as
it
was
natural
,
much
refreshed
in
body
;
but
with
a
consciousness
of
some
great
impending
calamity
.
She
sat
up
in
bed
to
recollect
,
and
when
she
did
remember
,
she
sank
down
again
with
all
the
helplessness
of
despair
.
But
it
was
only
the
weakness
of
an
instant
;
for
were
not
the
very
minutes
precious
,
for
deliberation
if
not
for
action
?
Before
she
had
finished
the
necessary
morning
business
of
dressing
,
and
setting
her
house
in
some
kind
of
order
,
she
had
disentangled
her
ravelled
ideas
,
and
arranged
some
kind
of
a
plan
for
action
.
If
Jem
was
innocent
(
and
now
,
of
his
guilt
,
even
his
slightest
participation
in
,
or
knowledge
of
,
the
murder
,
she
acquitted
him
with
all
her
heart
and
soul
)
,
he
must
have
been
somewhere
else
when
the
crime
was
committed
;
probably
with
some
others
,
who
might
bear
witness
to
the
fact
,
if
she
only
knew
where
to
find
them
.
Every
thing
rested
on
her
.
She
had
heard
of
an
alibi
,
and
believed
it
might
mean
the
deliverance
she
wished
to
accomplish
;
but
she
was
not
quite
sure
,
and
determined
to
apply
to
Job
,
as
one
of
the
few
among
her
acquaintance
gifted
with
the
knowledge
of
hard
words
,
for
to
her
,
all
terms
of
law
,
or
natural
history
,
were
alike
many-syllabled
mysteries
.
No
time
was
to
be
lost
.
She
went
straight
to
Job
Legh
's
house
,
and
found
the
old
man
and
his
grand-daughter
sitting
at
breakfast
;
as
she
opened
the
door
she
heard
their
voices
speaking
in
a
grave
,
hushed
,
subdued
tone
,
as
if
something
grieved
their
hearts
.
They
stopped
talking
on
her
entrance
,
and
then
she
knew
they
had
been
conversing
about
the
murder
;
about
Jem
's
probable
guilt
;
and
(
it
flashed
upon
her
for
the
first
time
)
on
the
new
light
they
would
have
obtained
regarding
herself
:
for
until
now
they
had
never
heard
of
her
giddy
flirting
with
Mr.
Carson
;
not
in
all
her
confidential
talk
with
Margaret
had
she
ever
spoken
of
him
.
And
now
Margaret
would
hear
her
conduct
talked
of
by
all
,
as
that
of
a
bold
,
bad
girl
;
and
even
if
she
did
not
believe
every
thing
that
was
said
,
she
could
hardly
help
feeling
wounded
,
and
disappointed
in
Mary
.
So
it
was
in
a
timid
voice
that
Mary
wished
her
usual
good-morrow
,
and
her
heart
sank
within
her
a
little
,
when
Job
,
with
a
form
of
civility
,
bade
her
welcome
in
that
dwelling
,
where
,
until
now
,
she
had
been
too
well
assured
to
require
to
be
asked
to
sit
down
.
She
took
a
chair
.
Margaret
continued
silent
.
"
I
'm
come
to
speak
to
you
about
this
—
about
Jem
Wilson
.
"
"
It
's
a
bad
business
,
I
'm
afeared
,
"
replied
Job
,
sadly
.
"
Ay
,
it
's
bad
enough
anyhow
.
But
Jem
's
innocent
.
Indeed
he
is
;
I
'm
as
sure
as
sure
can
be
.
"
"
How
can
you
know
,
wench
?
Facts
bear
strong
again
him
,
poor
fellow
,
though
he
'd
a
deal
to
put
him
up
,
and
aggravate
him
,
they
say
.
Ay
,
poor
lad
,
he
's
done
for
himself
,
I
'm
afeared
.
"
"
Job
!
"
said
Mary
,
rising
from
her
chair
in
her
eagerness
,
"
you
must
not
say
he
did
it
.
He
did
n't
;
I
'm
sure
and
certain
he
did
n't
.
Oh
!
why
do
you
shake
your
head
?
Who
is
to
believe
me
,
—
who
is
to
think
him
innocent
,
if
you
,
who
know
'd
him
so
well
,
stick
to
it
he
's
guilty
?
"
"
I
'm
loth
enough
to
do
it
,
lass
,
"
replied
Job
;
"
but
I
think
he
's
been
ill
used
,
and
—
jilted
(
that
's
plain
truth
,
Mary
,
hard
as
it
may
seem
)
,
and
his
blood
has
been
up
—
many
a
man
has
done
the
like
afore
,
from
like
causes
.
"
"
Oh
,
God
!
Then
you
wo
n't
help
me
,
Job
,
to
prove
him
innocent
?
Oh
!
Job
,
Job
;
believe
me
,
Jem
never
did
harm
to
no
one
.
"
"
Not
afore
;
—
and
mind
,
wench
!
I
do
n't
over-blame
him
for
this
.
"
Job
relapsed
into
silence
.
Mary
thought
a
moment
.
"
Well
,
Job
,
you
'll
not
refuse
me
this
,
I
know
.
I
wo
n't
mind
what
you
think
,
if
you
'll
help
me
as
if
he
was
innocent
.
Now
suppose
I
know
—
I
knew
he
was
innocent
,
—
it
's
only
supposing
,
Job
,
—
what
must
I
do
to
prove
it
?
Tell
me
,
Job
!
Is
n't
it
called
an
alibi
,
the
getting
folk
to
swear
to
where
he
really
was
at
the
time
?
"
"
Best
way
,
if
you
know
'd
him
innocent
,
would
be
to
find
out
the
real
murderer
.
Some
one
did
it
,
that
's
clear
enough
.
If
it
was
n't
Jem
,
who
was
it
?
"
"
How
can
I
tell
?
"
answered
Mary
,
in
an
agony
of
terror
,
lest
Job
's
question
was
prompted
by
any
suspicion
of
the
truth
.
But
he
was
far
enough
from
any
such
thought
.
Indeed
,
he
had
no
doubt
in
his
own
mind
that
Jem
had
,
in
some
passionate
moment
,
urged
on
by
slighted
love
and
jealousy
,
been
the
murderer
.
And
he
was
strongly
inclined
to
believe
,
that
Mary
was
aware
of
this
,
only
that
,
too
late
repentant
of
her
light
conduct
which
had
led
to
such
fatal
consequences
,
she
was
now
most
anxious
to
save
her
old
play-fellow
,
her
early
friend
,
from
the
doom
awaiting
the
shedder
of
blood
.
"
If
Jem
's
not
done
it
,
I
do
n't
see
as
any
on
us
can
tell
who
did
.
We
might
find
out
something
if
we
'd
time
;
but
they
say
he
's
to
be
tried
on
Tuesday
.
It
's
no
use
hiding
it
,
Mary
;
things
looks
strong
against
him
.
"
"
I
know
they
do
!
I
know
they
do
!
But
,
oh
!
Job
!
is
n't
an
alibi
a
proving
where
he
really
was
at
th
'
time
of
the
murder
;
and
how
must
I
set
about
an
alibi
?
"
"
An
alibi
is
that
,
sure
enough
.
"
He
thought
a
little
.
"
You
mun
ask
his
mother
his
doings
,
and
his
whereabouts
that
night
;
the
knowledge
of
that
will
guide
you
a
bit
.
"
For
he
was
anxious
that
on
another
should
fall
the
task
of
enlightening
Mary
on
the
hopelessness
of
the
case
,
and
he
felt
that
her
own
sense
would
be
more
convinced
by
inquiry
and
examination
than
any
mere
assertion
of
his
.
Margaret
had
sat
silent
and
grave
all
this
time
.
To
tell
the
truth
,
she
was
surprised
and
disappointed
by
the
disclosure
of
Mary
's
conduct
,
with
regard
to
Mr.
Henry
Carson
.
Gentle
,
reserved
,
and
prudent
herself
,
never
exposed
to
the
trial
of
being
admired
for
her
personal
appearance
,
and
unsusceptible
enough
to
be
in
doubt
even
yet
,
whether
the
fluttering
,
tender
,
infinitely-joyous
feeling
she
was
for
the
first
time
experiencing
,
at
sight
,
or
sound
,
or
thought
of
Will
Wilson
,
was
love
or
not
,
—
Margaret
had
no
sympathy
with
the
temptations
to
which
loveliness
,
vanity
,
ambition
,
or
the
desire
of
being
admired
,
exposes
so
many
;
no
sympathy
with
flirting
girls
,
in
short
.
Then
,
she
had
no
idea
of
the
strength
of
the
conflict
between
will
and
principle
in
some
who
were
differently
constituted
from
herself
.
With
her
,
to
be
convinced
that
an
action
was
wrong
,
was
tantamount
to
a
determination
not
to
do
so
again
;
and
she
had
little
or
no
difficulty
in
carrying
out
her
determination
.
So
she
could
not
understand
how
it
was
that
Mary
had
acted
wrongly
,
and
had
felt
too
much
ashamed
,
in
spite
of
all
internal
sophistry
,
to
speak
of
her
actions
.
Margaret
considered
herself
deceived
;
felt
aggrieved
;
and
,
at
the
time
of
which
I
am
now
telling
you
,
was
strongly
inclined
to
give
Mary
up
altogether
,
as
a
girl
devoid
of
the
modest
proprieties
of
her
sex
,
and
capable
of
gross
duplicity
,
in
speaking
of
one
lover
as
she
had
done
of
Jem
,
while
she
was
encouraging
another
in
attentions
,
at
best
of
a
very
doubtful
character
.
But
now
Margaret
was
drawn
into
the
conversation
.
Suddenly
it
flashed
across
Mary
's
mind
,
that
the
night
of
the
murder
was
the
very
night
,
or
rather
the
same
early
morning
,
that
Margaret
had
been
with
Alice
.
She
turned
sharp
round
,
with
—
"
Oh
!
Margaret
,
you
can
tell
me
;
you
were
there
when
he
came
back
that
night
;
were
you
not
?
No
!
you
were
not
;
but
you
were
there
not
many
hours
after
.
Did
not
you
hear
where
he
'd
been
?
He
was
away
the
night
before
,
too
,
when
Alice
was
first
taken
;
when
you
were
there
for
your
tea
.
Oh
!
where
was
he
,
Margaret
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
"
she
answered
.
"
Stay
!
I
do
remember
something
about
his
keeping
Will
company
,
in
his
walk
to
Liverpool
.
I
ca
n't
justly
say
what
it
was
,
so
much
happened
that
night
.
"
"
I
'll
go
to
his
mother
's
,
"
said
Mary
,
resolutely
.
They
neither
of
them
spoke
,
either
to
advise
or
dissuade
.
Mary
felt
she
had
no
sympathy
from
them
,
and
braced
up
her
soul
to
act
without
such
loving
aid
of
friendship
.
She
knew
that
their
advice
would
be
willingly
given
at
her
demand
,
and
that
was
all
she
really
required
for
Jem
's
sake
.
Still
her
courage
failed
a
little
as
she
walked
to
Jane
Wilson
's
,
alone
in
the
world
with
her
secret
.
Jane
Wilson
's
eyes
were
swelled
with
crying
;
and
it
was
sad
to
see
the
ravages
which
intense
anxiety
and
sorrow
had
made
on
her
appearance
in
four-and-twenty
hours
.
All
night
long
she
and
Mrs.
Davenport
had
crooned
over
their
sorrows
,
always
recurring
,
like
the
burden
of
an
old
song
,
to
the
dreadest
sorrow
of
all
,
which
was
now
impending
over
Mrs.
Wilson
.
She
had
grown
—
I
hardly
know
what
word
to
use
—
but
,
something
like
proud
of
her
martyrdom
;
she
had
grown
to
hug
her
grief
;
to
feel
an
excitement
in
her
agony
of
anxiety
about
her
boy
.
"
So
,
Mary
,
you
're
here
!
Oh
!
Mary
,
lass
!
He
's
to
be
tried
on
Tuesday
.
"
She
fell
to
sobbing
,
in
the
convulsive
breath-catching
manner
which
tells
so
of
much
previous
weeping
.
"
Oh
!
Mrs.
Wilson
,
do
n't
take
on
so
!
We
'll
get
him
off
,
you
'll
see
.
Do
n't
fret
;
they
ca
n't
prove
him
guilty
!
"
"
But
I
tell
thee
they
will
,
"
interrupted
Mrs.
Wilson
,
half-irritated
at
the
light
way
,
as
she
considered
it
,
in
which
Mary
spoke
;
and
a
little
displeased
that
another
could
hope
when
she
had
almost
brought
herself
to
find
pleasure
in
despair
.
"
It
may
suit
thee
well
,
"
continued
she
,
"
to
make
light
o
'
the
misery
thou
hast
caused
;
but
I
shall
lay
his
death
at
thy
door
,
as
long
as
I
live
,
and
die
I
know
he
will
;
and
all
for
what
he
never
did
—
no
,
he
never
did
;
my
own
blessed
boy
!
"
She
was
too
weak
to
be
angry
long
;
her
wrath
sank
away
to
feeble
sobbing
and
worn-out
moans
.
Mary
was
most
anxious
to
soothe
her
from
any
violence
of
either
grief
or
anger
;
she
did
so
want
her
to
be
clear
in
her
recollection
;
and
,
besides
,
her
tenderness
was
great
towards
Jem
's
mother
.
So
she
spoke
in
a
low
gentle
tone
the
loving
sentences
,
which
sound
so
broken
and
powerless
in
repetition
,
and
which
yet
have
so
much
power
when
accompanied
with
caressing
looks
and
actions
,
fresh
from
the
heart
;
and
the
old
woman
insensibly
gave
herself
up
to
the
influence
of
those
sweet
,
loving
blue
eyes
,
those
tears
of
sympathy
,
those
words
of
love
and
hope
,
and
was
lulled
into
a
less
morbid
state
of
mind
.
"
And
now
,
dear
Mrs.
Wilson
,
can
you
remember
where
he
said
he
was
going
on
Thursday
night
?
He
was
out
when
Alice
was
taken
ill
;
and
he
did
not
come
home
till
early
in
the
morning
,
or
,
to
speak
true
,
in
the
night
:
did
he
?
"
"
Ay
!
he
went
out
near
upon
five
;
he
went
out
with
Will
;
he
said
he
were
going
to
set
[
45
]
him
a
part
of
the
way
,
for
Will
were
hot
upon
walking
to
Liverpool
,
and
would
n't
hearken
to
Jem
's
offer
of
lending
him
five
shilling
for
his
fare
.
So
the
two
lads
set
off
together
.
I
mind
it
all
now
;
but
,
thou
seest
,
Alice
's
illness
,
and
this
business
of
poor
Jem
's
,
drove
it
out
of
my
head
;
they
went
off
together
,
to
walk
to
Liverpool
;
that
's
to
say
,
Jem
were
to
go
a
part
o
'
th
'
way
.
But
,
who
knows
"
(
falling
back
into
the
old
desponding
tone
)
"
if
he
really
went
?
He
might
be
led
off
on
the
road
.
Oh
!
Mary
,
wench
!
they
'll
hang
him
for
what
he
's
never
done
.
"
"
No
,
they
wo
n't
—
they
sha
n't
!
I
see
my
way
a
bit
now
.
We
mun
get
Will
to
help
;
there
'll
be
time
.
He
can
swear
that
Jem
were
with
him
.
Where
is
Jem
?
"
"
Folk
said
he
were
taken
to
Kirkdale
,
i
'
th
'
prison-van
,
this
morning
;
without
my
seeing
him
,
poor
chap
!
Oh
!
wench
!
but
they
've
hurried
on
the
business
at
a
cruel
rate
.
"
"
Ay
!
they
've
not
let
grass
grow
under
their
feet
,
in
hunting
out
the
man
that
did
it
,
"
said
Mary
,
sorrowfully
and
bitterly
.
"
But
keep
up
your
heart
.
They
got
on
the
wrong
scent
when
they
took
to
suspecting
Jem
.
Do
n't
be
afeard
.
You
'll
see
it
will
end
right
for
Jem
.
"
"
I
should
mind
it
less
if
I
could
do
aught
,
"
said
Jane
Wilson
;
"
but
I
'm
such
a
poor
weak
old
body
,
and
my
head
's
so
gone
,
and
I
'm
so
dazed-like
,
what
with
Alice
and
all
,
that
I
think
and
think
,
and
can
do
nought
to
help
my
child
.
I
might
ha
'
gone
and
seen
him
last
night
,
they
tell
me
now
,
and
then
I
missed
it
.
Oh
!
Mary
,
I
missed
it
;
and
I
may
never
see
the
lad
again
.
"
She
looked
so
piteously
in
Mary
's
face
with
her
miserable
eyes
,
that
Mary
felt
her
heart
giving
way
,
and
,
dreading
the
weakening
of
her
powers
,
which
the
burst
of
crying
she
longed
for
would
occasion
,
hastily
changed
the
subject
to
Alice
;
and
Jane
,
in
her
heart
,
feeling
that
there
was
no
sorrow
like
a
mother
's
sorrow
,
replied
,
"
She
keeps
on
much
the
same
,
thank
you
.
She
's
happy
,
for
she
knows
nought
of
what
's
going
on
;
but
th
'
doctor
says
she
grows
weaker
and
weaker
.
Thou'lt
may
be
like
to
see
her
?
"
Mary
went
up-stairs
:
partly
because
it
is
the
etiquette
in
humble
life
to
offer
to
friends
a
last
opportunity
of
seeing
the
dying
or
the
dead
,
while
the
same
etiquette
forbids
a
refusal
of
the
invitation
;
and
partly
because
she
longed
to
breathe
,
for
an
instant
,
the
atmosphere
of
holy
calm
,
which
seemed
ever
to
surround
the
pious
good
old
woman
.
Alice
lay
,
as
before
,
without
pain
,
or
at
least
any
outward
expression
of
it
;
but
totally
unconscious
of
all
present
circumstances
,
and
absorbed
in
recollections
of
the
days
of
her
girlhood
,
which
were
vivid
enough
to
take
the
place
of
realities
to
her
.
Still
she
talked
of
green
fields
,
and
still
she
spoke
to
the
long-dead
mother
and
sister
,
low-lying
in
their
graves
this
many
a
year
,
as
if
they
were
with
her
and
about
her
,
in
the
pleasant
places
where
her
youth
had
passed
.
But
the
voice
was
fainter
,
the
motions
were
more
languid
;
she
was
evidently
passing
away
;
but
how
happily
!
Mary
stood
for
a
time
in
silence
,
watching
and
listening
.
Then
she
bent
down
and
reverently
kissed
Alice
's
cheek
;
and
drawing
Jane
Wilson
away
from
the
bed
,
as
if
the
spirit
of
her
who
lay
there
were
yet
cognisant
of
present
realities
,
she
whispered
a
few
words
of
hope
to
the
poor
mother
,
and
kissing
her
over
and
over
again
in
a
warm
,
loving
manner
,
she
bade
her
good-bye
,
went
a
few
steps
,
and
then
once
more
came
back
to
bid
her
keep
up
her
heart
.
And
when
she
had
fairly
left
the
house
,
Jane
Wilson
felt
as
if
a
sun-beam
had
ceased
shining
into
the
room
.
Yet
oh
!
how
sorely
Mary
's
heart
ached
;
for
more
and
more
the
fell
certainty
came
on
her
that
her
father
was
the
murderer
!
She
struggled
hard
not
to
dwell
on
this
conviction
;
to
think
alone
on
the
means
of
proving
Jem
's
innocence
;
that
was
her
first
duty
,
and
that
should
be
done
.
CHAPTER
XXIII
.
THE
SUB-PŒNA
.
"
And
must
it
then
depend
on
this
poor
eye
And
this
unsteady
hand
,
whether
the
bark
,
That
bears
my
all
of
treasured
hope
and
love
,
Shall
find
a
passage
through
these
frowning
rocks
To
some
fair
port
where
peace
and
safety
smile
,
—
Or
whether
it
shall
blindly
dash
against
them
,
And
miserably
sink
?
Heaven
be
my
help
;
And
clear
my
eye
,
and
nerve
my
trembling
hand
!
"
"
The
Constant
Woman
.
"
Her
heart
beating
,
her
head
full
of
ideas
,
which
required
time
and
solitude
to
be
reduced
into
order
,
Mary
hurried
home
.
She
was
like
one
who
finds
a
jewel
of
which
he
cannot
all
at
once
ascertain
the
value
,
but
who
hides
his
treasure
until
some
quiet
hour
when
he
may
ponder
over
the
capabilities
its
possession
unfolds
.
She
was
like
one
who
discovers
the
silken
clue
which
guides
to
some
bower
of
bliss
,
and
secure
of
the
power
within
his
grasp
,
has
to
wait
for
a
time
before
he
may
tread
the
labyrinth
.
But
no
jewel
,
no
bower
of
bliss
was
ever
so
precious
to
miser
or
lover
as
was
the
belief
which
now
pervaded
Mary
's
mind
,
that
Jem
's
innocence
might
be
proved
,
without
involving
any
suspicion
of
that
other
—
that
dear
one
,
so
dear
,
although
so
criminal
—
on
whose
part
in
this
cruel
business
she
dared
not
dwell
even
in
thought
.
For
if
she
did
,
there
arose
the
awful
question
,
—
if
all
went
against
Jem
the
innocent
,
if
judge
and
jury
gave
the
verdict
forth
which
had
the
looming
gallows
in
the
rear
,
what
ought
she
to
do
,
possessed
of
her
terrible
knowledge
?
Surely
not
to
inculpate
her
father
—
and
yet
—
and
yet
—
she
almost
prayed
for
the
blessed
unconsciousness
of
death
or
madness
,
rather
than
that
awful
question
should
have
to
be
answered
by
her
.
But
now
a
way
seemed
opening
,
opening
yet
more
clear
.
She
was
thankful
she
had
thought
of
the
alibi
,
and
yet
more
thankful
to
have
so
easily
obtained
the
clue
to
Jem
's
whereabouts
that
miserable
night
.
The
bright
light
that
her
new
hope
threw
over
all
seemed
also
to
make
her
thankful
for
the
early
time
appointed
for
the
trial
.
It
would
be
easy
to
catch
Will
Wilson
on
his
return
from
the
Isle
of
Man
,
which
he
had
planned
should
be
on
the
Monday
;
and
on
the
Tuesday
all
would
be
made
clear
—
all
that
she
dared
to
wish
to
be
made
clear
.
She
had
still
to
collect
her
thoughts
and
freshen
her
memory
enough
to
arrange
how
to
meet
with
Will
—
for
to
the
chances
of
a
letter
she
would
not
trust
;
to
find
out
his
lodgings
when
in
Liverpool
;
to
try
and
remember
the
name
of
the
ship
in
which
he
was
to
sail
:
and
the
more
she
considered
these
points
the
more
difficulty
she
found
there
would
be
in
ascertaining
these
minor
but
important
facts
.
For
you
are
aware
that
Alice
,
whose
memory
was
clear
and
strong
on
all
points
in
which
her
heart
was
interested
,
was
lying
in
a
manner
senseless
:
that
Jane
Wilson
was
(
to
use
her
own
word
,
so
expressive
to
a
Lancashire
ear
)
"
dazed
,
"
that
is
to
say
,
bewildered
,
lost
in
the
confusion
of
terrifying
and
distressing
thoughts
;
incapable
of
concentrating
her
mind
;
and
at
the
best
of
times
Will
's
proceedings
were
a
matter
of
little
importance
to
her
(
or
so
she
pretended
)
,
she
was
so
jealous
of
aught
which
distracted
attention
from
her
pearl
of
price
,
her
only
son
Jem
.
So
Mary
felt
hopeless
of
obtaining
any
intelligence
of
the
sailor
's
arrangements
from
her
.
Then
,
should
she
apply
to
Jem
himself
?
No
!
she
knew
him
too
well
.
She
felt
how
thoroughly
he
must
ere
now
have
had
it
in
his
power
to
exculpate
himself
at
another
's
expense
.
And
his
tacit
refusal
so
to
do
had
assured
her
of
what
she
had
never
doubted
,
that
the
murderer
was
safe
from
any
impeachment
of
his
.
But
then
neither
would
he
consent
,
she
feared
,
to
any
steps
which
might
tend
to
prove
himself
innocent
.
At
any
rate
,
she
could
not
consult
him
.
He
was
removed
to
Kirkdale
,
and
time
pressed
.
Already
it
was
Saturday
at
noon
.
And
even
if
she
could
have
gone
to
him
,
I
believe
she
would
not
.
She
longed
to
do
all
herself
;
to
be
his
liberator
,
his
deliverer
;
to
win
him
life
,
though
she
might
never
regain
his
lost
love
,
by
her
own
exertions
.
And
oh
!
how
could
she
see
him
to
discuss
a
subject
in
which
both
knew
who
was
the
blood-stained
man
;
and
yet
whose
name
might
not
be
breathed
by
either
,
so
dearly
with
all
his
faults
,
his
sins
,
was
he
loved
by
both
.
All
at
once
,
when
she
had
ceased
to
try
and
remember
,
the
name
of
Will
's
ship
flashed
across
her
mind
.
The
John
Cropper
.
He
had
named
it
,
she
had
been
sure
,
all
along
.
He
had
named
it
in
his
conversation
with
her
that
last
,
that
fatal
Thursday
evening
.
She
repeated
it
over
and
over
again
,
through
a
nervous
dread
of
again
forgetting
it
.
The
John
Cropper
.
And
then
,
as
if
she
were
rousing
herself
out
of
some
strange
stupor
,
she
bethought
her
of
Margaret
.
Who
so
likely
as
Margaret
to
treasure
every
little
particular
respecting
Will
,
now
Alice
was
dead
to
all
the
stirring
purposes
of
life
?
She
had
gone
thus
far
in
her
process
of
thought
,
when
a
neighbour
stepped
in
;
she
with
whom
they
had
usually
deposited
the
house-key
,
when
both
Mary
and
her
father
were
absent
from
home
,
and
who
consequently
took
upon
herself
to
answer
all
inquiries
,
and
receive
all
messages
which
any
friends
might
make
,
or
leave
,
on
finding
the
house
shut
up
.
"
Here
's
somewhat
for
you
,
Mary
!
A
policeman
left
it
.
"
A
bit
of
parchment
.
Many
people
have
a
dread
of
those
mysterious
pieces
of
parchment
.
I
am
one
.
Mary
was
another
.
Her
heart
misgave
her
as
she
took
it
,
and
looked
at
the
unusual
appearance
of
the
writing
,
which
,
though
legible
enough
,
conveyed
no
idea
to
her
,
or
rather
her
mind
shut
itself
up
against
receiving
any
idea
,
which
after
all
was
rather
a
proof
she
had
some
suspicion
of
the
meaning
that
awaited
her
.
"
What
is
it
?
"
asked
she
,
in
a
voice
from
which
all
the
pith
and
marrow
of
strength
seemed
extracted
.
"
Nay
!
how
should
I
know
?
Policeman
said
he
'd
call
again
towards
evening
,
and
see
if
you
'd
getten
it
.
He
were
loth
to
leave
it
,
though
I
telled
him
who
I
was
,
and
all
about
my
keeping
th
'
key
,
and
taking
messages
.
"
"
What
is
it
about
?
"
asked
Mary
again
,
in
the
same
hoarse
,
feeble
voice
,
and
turning
it
over
in
her
fingers
,
as
if
she
dreaded
to
inform
herself
of
its
meaning
.
"
Well
!
yo
can
read
word
of
writing
and
I
cannot
,
so
it
's
queer
I
should
have
to
tell
you
.
But
my
master
says
it
's
a
summons
for
yo
to
bear
witness
again
Jem
Wilson
,
at
th
'
trial
at
Liverpool
Assize
.
"
"
God
pity
me
!
"
said
Mary
,
faintly
,
as
white
as
a
sheet
.
"
Nay
,
wench
,
never
take
on
so
.
What
yo
can
say
will
go
little
way
either
to
help
or
to
hinder
,
for
folk
say
he
's
certain
to
be
hung
;
and
sure
enough
it
was
t'other
one
as
was
your
sweetheart
.
"
But
Mary
was
beyond
any
pang
this
speech
would
have
given
at
another
time
.
Her
thoughts
were
all
busy
picturing
to
herself
the
terrible
occasion
of
their
next
meeting
—
not
as
lovers
meet
should
they
meet
!
"
Well
!
"
said
the
neighbour
,
seeing
no
use
in
remaining
with
one
who
noticed
her
words
or
her
presence
so
little
;
"
thou'lt
tell
policeman
thou'st
getten
his
precious
bit
of
paper
.
He
seemed
to
think
I
should
be
keeping
it
for
mysel
;
he
's
th
'
first
as
has
ever
misdoubted
me
about
giving
messages
,
or
notes
.
Good
day
.
"
She
left
the
house
,
but
Mary
did
not
know
it
.
She
sat
still
with
the
parchment
in
her
hand
.
All
at
once
she
started
up
.
She
would
take
it
to
Job
Legh
and
ask
him
to
tell
her
the
true
meaning
,
for
it
could
not
be
that
.
So
she
went
,
and
choked
out
her
words
of
inquiry
.
"
It
's
a
sub-pœna
,
"
he
replied
,
turning
the
parchment
over
with
the
air
of
a
connoisseur
;
for
Job
loved
hard
words
,
and
lawyer-like
forms
,
and
even
esteemed
himself
slightly
qualified
for
a
lawyer
,
from
the
smattering
of
knowledge
he
had
picked
up
from
an
odd
volume
of
Blackstone
that
he
had
once
purchased
at
a
book-stall
.
"
A
sub-pœna
—
what
is
that
?
"
gasped
Mary
,
still
in
suspense
.
Job
was
struck
with
her
voice
,
her
changed
,
miserable
voice
,
and
peered
at
her
countenance
from
over
his
spectacles
.
"
A
sub-pœna
is
neither
more
nor
less
than
this
,
my
dear
.
It
's
a
summonsing
you
to
attend
,
and
answer
such
questions
as
may
be
asked
of
you
regarding
the
trial
of
James
Wilson
,
for
the
murder
of
Henry
Carson
;
that
's
the
long
and
short
of
it
,
only
more
elegantly
put
,
for
the
benefit
of
them
who
knows
how
to
value
the
gift
of
language
.
I
've
been
a
witness
before-time
myself
;
there
's
nothing
much
to
be
afeared
on
;
if
they
are
impudent
,
why
,
just
you
be
impudent
,
and
give
'
em
tit
for
tat
.
"
"
Nothing
much
to
be
afeared
on
!
"
echoed
Mary
,
but
in
such
a
different
tone
.
"
Ay
,
poor
wench
,
I
see
how
it
is
.
It
'll
go
hard
with
thee
a
bit
,
I
dare
say
;
but
keep
up
thy
heart
.
Yo
cannot
have
much
to
tell
'
em
,
that
can
go
either
one
way
or
th
'
other
.
Nay
!
may
be
thou
may
do
him
a
bit
o
'
good
,
for
when
they
set
eyes
on
thee
,
they
'll
see
fast
enough
how
he
came
to
be
so
led
away
by
jealousy
;
for
thou'rt
a
pretty
creature
,
Mary
,
and
one
look
at
thy
face
will
let
'
em
into
th
'
secret
of
a
young
man
's
madness
,
and
make
'
em
more
ready
to
pass
it
over
.
"
"
Oh
!
Job
,
and
wo
n't
you
ever
believe
me
when
I
tell
you
he
's
innocent
?
Indeed
,
and
indeed
I
can
prove
it
;
he
was
with
Will
all
that
night
;
he
was
,
indeed
,
Job
!
"
"
My
wench
!
whose
word
hast
thou
for
that
?
"
said
Job
,
pityingly
.
"
Why
!
his
mother
told
me
,
and
I
'll
get
Will
to
bear
witness
to
it
.
But
,
oh
!
Job
"
(
bursting
into
tears
)
,
"
it
is
hard
if
you
wo
n't
believe
me
.
How
shall
I
clear
him
to
strangers
,
when
those
who
know
him
,
and
ought
to
love
him
,
are
so
set
against
his
being
innocent
?
"
"
God
knows
,
I
'm
not
against
his
being
innocent
,
"
said
Job
,
solemnly
.
"
I
'd
give
half
my
remaining
days
on
earth
,
—
I
'd
give
them
all
,
Mary
(
and
but
for
the
love
I
bear
to
my
poor
blind
girl
,
they
'd
be
no
great
gift
)
,
if
I
could
save
him
.
You
've
thought
me
hard
,
Mary
,
but
I
'm
not
hard
at
bottom
,
and
I
'll
help
you
if
I
can
;
that
I
will
,
right
or
wrong
,
"
he
added
;
but
in
a
low
voice
,
and
coughed
the
uncertain
words
away
the
moment
afterwards
.
"
Oh
,
Job
!
if
you
will
help
me
,
"
exclaimed
Mary
,
brightening
up
(
though
it
was
but
a
wintry
gleam
after
all
)
,
"
tell
me
what
to
say
,
when
they
question
me
;
I
shall
be
so
gloppened
,
[
46
]
I
sha
n't
know
what
to
answer
.
"
"
Thou
canst
do
nought
better
than
tell
the
truth
.
Truth
's
best
at
all
times
,
they
say
;
and
for
sure
it
is
when
folk
have
to
do
with
lawyers
;
for
they
're
'
cute
and
cunning
enough
to
get
it
out
sooner
or
later
,
and
it
makes
folk
look
like
Tom
Noddies
,
when
truth
follows
falsehood
,
against
their
will
.
"
"
But
I
do
n't
know
the
truth
;
I
mean
—
I
ca
n't
say
rightly
what
I
mean
;
but
I
'm
sure
,
if
I
were
pent
up
,
and
stared
at
by
hundreds
of
folk
,
and
asked
ever
so
simple
a
question
,
I
should
be
for
answering
it
wrong
;
if
they
asked
me
if
I
had
seen
you
on
a
Saturday
,
or
a
Tuesday
,
or
any
day
,
I
should
have
clean
forgotten
all
about
it
,
and
say
the
very
thing
I
should
not
.
"
"
Well
,
well
,
do
n't
go
for
to
get
such
notions
into
your
head
;
they
're
what
they
call
'
narvous
,
'
and
talking
on
'
em
does
no
good
.
Here
's
Margaret
!
bless
the
wench
!
Look
,
Mary
,
how
well
she
guides
hersel
.
"
Job
fell
to
watching
his
grand-daughter
,
as
with
balancing
,
measured
steps
,
timed
almost
as
if
to
music
,
she
made
her
way
across
the
street
.
Mary
shrank
as
if
from
a
cold
blast
—
shrank
from
Margaret
!
The
blind
girl
,
with
her
reserve
,
her
silence
,
seemed
to
be
a
severe
judge
;
she
,
listening
,
would
be
such
a
check
to
the
trusting
earnestness
of
confidence
,
which
was
beginning
to
unlock
the
sympathy
of
Job
.
Mary
knew
herself
to
blame
;
felt
her
errors
in
every
fibre
of
her
heart
;
but
yet
she
would
rather
have
had
them
spoken
about
,
even
in
terms
of
severest
censure
,
than
have
been
treated
in
the
icy
manner
in
which
Margaret
had
received
her
that
morning
.
"
Here
's
Mary
,
"
said
Job
,
almost
as
if
he
wished
to
propitiate
his
grand-daughter
,
"
come
to
take
a
bit
of
dinner
with
us
,
for
I
'll
warrant
she
's
never
thought
of
cooking
any
for
herself
to-day
;
and
she
looks
as
wan
and
pale
as
a
ghost
.
"
It
was
calling
out
the
feeling
of
hospitality
,
so
strong
and
warm
in
most
of
those
who
have
little
to
offer
,
but
whose
heart
goes
eagerly
and
kindly
with
that
little
.
Margaret
came
towards
Mary
with
a
welcoming
gesture
,
and
a
kinder
manner
by
far
than
she
had
used
in
the
morning
.
"
Nay
,
Mary
,
thou
know'st
thou'st
getten
nought
at
home
,
"
urged
Job
.
And
Mary
,
faint
and
weary
,
and
with
a
heart
too
aching-full
of
other
matters
to
be
pertinacious
in
this
,
withdrew
her
refusal
.
They
ate
their
dinner
quietly
;
for
to
all
it
was
an
effort
to
speak
,
and
after
one
or
two
attempts
they
had
subsided
into
silence
.
When
the
meal
was
ended
Job
began
again
on
the
subject
they
all
had
at
heart
.
"
Yon
poor
lad
at
Kirkdale
will
want
a
lawyer
to
see
they
do
n't
put
on
him
,
but
do
him
justice
.
Hast
thought
of
that
?
"
Mary
had
not
,
and
felt
sure
his
mother
had
not
.
Margaret
confirmed
this
last
supposition
.
"
I
've
but
just
been
there
,
and
poor
Jane
is
like
one
dateless
;
so
many
griefs
come
on
her
at
once
.
One
time
she
seems
to
make
sure
he
'll
be
hung
;
and
if
I
took
her
in
that
way
,
she
flew
out
(
poor
body
!
)
and
said
,
that
in
spite
of
what
folk
said
,
there
were
them
as
could
,
and
would
prove
him
guiltless
.
So
I
never
knew
where
to
have
her
.
The
only
thing
she
was
constant
in
,
was
declaring
him
innocent
.
"
