changeableness,
than
for
its
former
giddy
flirting
.
"
Poor
young
gentleman
,
"
said
one
,
as
Sally
recounted
Mary
's
last
interview
with
Mr.
Carson
.
"
What
a
shame
!
"
exclaimed
another
,
looking
indignantly
at
Mary
.
"
That
's
what
I
call
regular
jilting
,
"
said
a
third
.
"
And
he
lying
cold
and
bloody
in
his
coffin
now
!
"
Mary
was
more
thankful
than
she
could
express
,
when
Miss
Simmonds
returned
,
to
put
a
stop
to
Sally
's
communications
,
and
to
check
the
remarks
of
the
girls
.
She
longed
for
the
peace
of
Alice
's
sick
room
.
No
more
thinking
with
infinite
delight
of
her
anticipated
meeting
with
Jem
,
she
felt
too
much
shocked
for
that
now
;
but
longing
for
peace
and
kindness
,
for
the
images
of
rest
and
beauty
,
and
sinless
times
long
ago
,
which
the
poor
old
woman
's
rambling
presented
,
she
wished
to
be
as
near
death
as
Alice
;
and
to
have
struggled
through
this
world
,
whose
sufferings
she
had
early
learnt
,
and
whose
crimes
now
seemed
pressing
close
upon
her
.
Old
texts
from
the
Bible
that
her
mother
used
to
read
(
or
rather
spell
out
)
aloud
,
in
the
days
of
childhood
,
came
up
to
her
memory
.
"
Where
the
wicked
cease
from
troubling
,
and
the
weary
are
at
rest
.
"
"
The
tears
shall
be
wiped
away
from
all
eyes
,
"
etc.
And
it
was
to
that
world
Alice
was
hastening
!
Oh
!
that
she
were
Alice
!
I
must
return
to
the
Wilsons
'
house
,
which
was
far
from
being
the
abode
of
peace
that
Mary
was
picturing
it
to
herself
.
You
remember
the
reward
Mr.
Carson
offered
for
the
apprehension
of
the
murderer
of
his
son
?
It
was
in
itself
a
temptation
,
and
to
aid
its
efficacy
came
the
natural
sympathy
for
the
aged
parents
mourning
for
their
child
,
for
the
young
man
cut
off
in
the
flower
of
his
days
;
and
besides
this
,
there
is
always
a
pleasure
in
unravelling
a
mystery
,
in
catching
at
the
gossamer
clue
which
will
guide
to
certainty
.
This
feeling
,
I
am
sure
,
gives
much
impetus
to
the
police
.
Their
senses
are
ever
and
always
on
the
qui-vive
,
and
they
enjoy
the
collecting
and
collating
evidence
,
and
the
life
of
adventure
they
experience
:
a
continual
unwinding
of
Jack
Sheppard
romances
,
always
interesting
to
the
vulgar
and
uneducated
mind
,
to
which
the
outward
signs
and
tokens
of
crime
are
ever
exciting
.
There
was
no
lack
of
clue
or
evidence
at
the
coroner
's
inquest
that
morning
.
The
shot
,
the
finding
of
the
body
,
the
subsequent
discovery
of
the
gun
,
were
rapidly
deposed
to
;
and
then
the
policeman
who
had
interrupted
the
quarrel
between
Jem
Wilson
and
the
murdered
young
man
was
brought
forward
,
and
gave
his
evidence
,
clear
,
simple
,
and
straightforward
.
The
coroner
had
no
hesitation
,
the
jury
had
none
,
but
the
verdict
was
cautiously
worded
.
"
Wilful
murder
against
some
person
unknown
.
"
This
very
cautiousness
,
when
he
deemed
the
thing
so
sure
as
to
require
no
caution
,
irritated
Mr.
Carson
.
It
did
not
soothe
him
that
the
superintendent
called
the
verdict
a
mere
form
,
—
exhibited
a
warrant
empowering
him
to
seize
the
body
of
Jem
Wilson
,
committed
on
suspicion
,
—
declared
his
intention
of
employing
a
well-known
officer
in
the
Detective
Service
to
ascertain
the
ownership
of
the
gun
,
and
to
collect
other
evidence
,
especially
as
regarded
the
young
woman
,
about
whom
the
policeman
deposed
that
the
quarrel
had
taken
place
:
Mr.
Carson
was
still
excited
and
irritable
;
restless
in
body
and
mind
.
He
made
every
preparation
for
the
accusation
of
Jem
the
following
morning
before
the
magistrates
:
he
engaged
attorneys
skilled
in
criminal
practice
to
watch
the
case
and
prepare
briefs
;
he
wrote
to
celebrated
barristers
coming
the
Northern
Circuit
,
to
bespeak
their
services
.
A
speedy
conviction
,
a
speedy
execution
,
seemed
to
be
the
only
things
that
would
satisfy
his
craving
thirst
for
blood
.
He
would
have
fain
been
policeman
,
magistrate
,
accusing
speaker
,
all
;
but
most
of
all
,
the
judge
,
rising
with
full
sentence
of
death
on
his
lips
.
That
afternoon
,
as
Jane
Wilson
had
begun
to
feel
the
effect
of
a
night
's
disturbed
rest
,
evinced
in
frequent
droppings
off
to
sleep
while
she
sat
by
her
sister-in-law
's
bed-side
,
lulled
by
the
incessant
crooning
of
the
invalid
's
feeble
voice
,
she
was
startled
by
a
man
speaking
in
the
house-place
below
,
who
,
wearied
of
knocking
at
the
door
,
without
obtaining
any
answer
,
had
entered
and
was
calling
lustily
for
"
Missis
!
missis
!
"
When
Mrs.
Wilson
caught
a
glimpse
of
the
intruder
through
the
stair-rails
,
she
at
once
saw
he
was
a
stranger
,
a
working-man
,
it
might
be
a
fellow-labourer
with
her
son
,
for
his
dress
was
grimy
enough
for
the
supposition
.
He
held
a
gun
in
his
hand
.
"
May
I
make
bold
to
ask
if
this
gun
belongs
to
your
son
?
"
She
first
looked
at
the
man
,
and
then
,
weary
and
half
asleep
,
not
seeing
any
reason
for
refusing
to
answer
the
inquiry
,
she
moved
forward
to
examine
it
,
talking
while
she
looked
for
certain
old-fashioned
ornaments
on
the
stock
.
"
It
looks
like
his
;
ay
,
it
's
his
,
sure
enough
.
I
could
speak
to
it
anywhere
by
these
marks
.
You
see
it
were
his
grandfather
's
,
as
were
gamekeeper
to
some
one
up
in
th
'
north
;
and
they
do
n't
make
guns
so
smart
now-a-days
.
But
,
how
comed
you
by
it
?
He
sets
great
store
on
it
.
Is
he
bound
for
th
'
shooting
gallery
?
He
is
not
,
for
sure
,
now
his
aunt
is
so
ill
,
and
me
left
all
alone
;
"
and
the
immediate
cause
for
her
anxiety
being
thus
recalled
to
her
mind
,
she
entered
on
a
long
story
of
Alice
's
illness
,
interspersed
with
recollections
of
her
husband
's
and
her
children
's
deaths
.
The
disguised
policeman
listened
for
a
minute
or
two
,
to
glean
any
further
information
he
could
;
and
then
,
saying
he
was
in
a
hurry
,
he
turned
to
go
away
.
She
followed
him
to
the
door
,
still
telling
him
her
troubles
,
and
was
never
struck
,
until
it
was
too
late
to
ask
the
reason
,
with
the
unaccountableness
of
his
conduct
,
in
carrying
the
gun
away
with
him
.
Then
,
as
she
heavily
climbed
the
stairs
,
she
put
away
the
wonder
and
the
thought
about
his
conduct
,
by
determining
to
believe
he
was
some
workman
with
whom
her
son
had
made
some
arrangement
about
shooting
at
the
gallery
;
or
mending
the
old
weapon
;
or
something
or
other
.
She
had
enough
to
fret
her
,
without
moidering
herself
about
old
guns
.
Jem
had
given
it
him
to
bring
to
her
;
so
it
was
safe
enough
;
or
,
if
it
was
not
,
why
she
should
be
glad
never
to
set
eyes
on
it
again
,
for
she
could
not
abide
fire-arms
,
they
were
so
apt
to
shoot
people
.
So
,
comforting
herself
for
her
want
of
thought
in
not
making
further
inquiry
,
she
fell
off
into
another
doze
,
feverish
,
dream-haunted
,
and
unrefreshing
.
Meanwhile
,
the
policeman
walked
off
with
his
prize
,
with
an
odd
mixture
of
feelings
;
a
little
contempt
,
a
little
disappointment
,
and
a
good
deal
of
pity
.
The
contempt
and
the
disappointment
were
caused
by
the
widow
's
easy
admission
of
the
gun
being
her
son
's
property
,
and
her
manner
of
identifying
it
by
the
ornaments
.
He
liked
an
attempt
to
baffle
him
;
he
was
accustomed
to
it
;
it
gave
some
exercise
to
his
wits
and
his
shrewdness
.
There
would
be
no
fun
in
fox-hunting
,
if
Reynard
yielded
himself
up
without
any
effort
to
escape
.
Then
,
again
,
his
mother
's
milk
was
yet
in
him
,
policeman
,
officer
of
the
Detective
Service
though
he
was
;
and
he
felt
sorry
for
the
old
woman
,
whose
"
softness
"
had
given
such
material
assistance
in
identifying
her
son
as
the
murderer
.
However
,
he
conveyed
the
gun
,
and
the
intelligence
he
had
gained
,
to
the
superintendent
;
and
the
result
was
,
that
,
in
a
short
time
afterwards
,
three
policemen
went
to
the
works
at
which
Jem
was
foreman
,
and
announced
their
errand
to
the
astonished
overseer
,
who
directed
them
to
the
part
of
the
foundry
where
Jem
was
then
superintending
a
casting
.
Dark
,
black
were
the
walls
,
the
ground
,
the
faces
around
them
,
as
they
crossed
the
yard
.
But
,
in
the
furnace-house
a
deep
and
lurid
red
glared
over
all
;
the
furnace
roared
with
mighty
flame
.
The
men
,
like
demons
,
in
their
fire-and-soot
colouring
,
stood
swart
around
,
awaiting
the
moment
when
the
tons
of
solid
iron
should
have
melted
down
into
fiery
liquid
,
fit
to
be
poured
,
with
still
,
heavy
sound
,
into
the
delicate
moulding
of
fine
black
sand
,
prepared
to
receive
it
.
The
heat
was
intense
,
and
the
red
glare
grew
every
instant
more
fierce
;
the
policemen
stood
awed
with
the
novel
sight
.
Then
,
black
figures
,
holding
strange-shaped
bucket
shovels
,
came
athwart
the
deep-red
furnace
light
,
and
clear
and
brilliant
flowed
forth
the
iron
into
the
appropriate
mould
.
The
buzz
of
voices
rose
again
;
there
was
time
to
speak
,
and
gasp
,
and
wipe
the
brows
;
and
then
,
one
by
one
,
the
men
dispersed
to
some
other
branch
of
their
employment
.
No.
B
.
72
pointed
out
Jem
as
the
man
he
had
seen
engaged
in
a
scuffle
with
Mr.
Carson
,
and
then
the
other
two
stepped
forward
and
arrested
him
,
stating
of
what
he
was
accused
,
and
the
grounds
of
the
accusation
.
He
offered
no
resistance
,
though
he
seemed
surprised
;
but
calling
a
fellow-workman
to
him
,
he
briefly
requested
him
to
tell
his
mother
he
had
got
into
trouble
,
and
could
not
return
home
at
present
.
He
did
not
wish
her
to
hear
more
at
first
.
So
Mrs.
Wilson
's
sleep
was
next
interrupted
in
almost
an
exactly
similar
way
to
the
last
,
like
a
recurring
nightmare
.
"
Missis
!
missis
!
"
some
one
called
out
from
below
.
Again
it
was
a
workman
,
but
this
time
a
blacker-looking
one
than
before
.
"
What
don
ye
want
?
"
said
she
,
peevishly
.
"
Only
nothing
but
—
"
stammered
the
man
,
a
kind-hearted
matter-of-fact
person
,
with
no
invention
,
but
a
great
deal
of
sympathy
.
"
Well
!
speak
out
,
ca
n't
ye
,
and
ha
'
done
with
it
?
"
"
Jem
's
in
trouble
,
"
said
he
,
repeating
Jem
's
very
words
,
as
he
could
think
of
no
others
.
"
Trouble
!
"
said
the
mother
,
in
a
high-pitched
voice
of
distress
.
"
Trouble
!
God
help
me
,
trouble
will
never
end
,
I
think
.
What
d'ye
mean
by
trouble
?
Speak
out
,
man
,
ca
n't
ye
?
Is
he
ill
?
My
boy
!
tell
me
,
is
he
ill
?
"
in
a
hurried
voice
of
terror
.
"
Na
,
na
,
that
's
not
it
.
He
's
well
enough
.
All
he
bade
me
say
was
,
'
Tell
mother
I
'm
in
trouble
,
and
ca
n't
come
home
to-night
.
'
"
"
Not
come
home
to-night
!
And
what
am
I
to
do
with
Alice
?
I
ca
n't
go
on
,
wearing
my
life
out
wi
'
watching
.
He
might
come
and
help
me
.
"
"
I
tell
you
he
ca
n't
,
"
said
the
man
.
"
Ca
n't
;
and
he
is
well
,
you
say
?
Stuff
!
It
's
just
that
he
's
getten
like
other
young
men
,
and
wants
to
go
a-larking
.
But
I
'll
give
it
him
when
he
comes
back
.
"
The
man
turned
to
go
;
he
durst
not
trust
himself
to
speak
in
Jem
's
justification
.
But
she
would
not
let
him
off
.
She
stood
between
him
and
the
door
,
as
she
said
,
"
Yo
shall
not
go
,
till
yo
've
told
me
what
he
's
after
.
I
can
see
plain
enough
you
know
,
and
I
'll
know
too
,
before
I
've
done
.
"
"
You
'll
know
soon
enough
,
missis
!
"
"
I
'll
know
now
,
I
tell
ye
.
What
's
up
that
he
ca
n't
come
home
and
help
me
nurse
?
Me
,
as
never
got
a
wink
o
'
sleep
last
night
wi
'
watching
.
"
"
Well
,
if
you
will
have
it
out
,
"
said
the
poor
badgered
man
,
"
the
police
have
got
hold
on
him
.
"
"
On
my
Jem
!
"
said
the
enraged
mother
.
"
You
're
a
downright
liar
,
and
that
's
what
you
are
.
My
Jem
,
as
never
did
harm
to
any
one
in
his
life
.
You
're
a
liar
,
that
's
what
you
are
.
"
"
He
's
done
harm
enough
now
,
"
said
the
man
,
angry
in
his
turn
,
"
for
there
's
good
evidence
he
murdered
young
Carson
,
as
was
shot
last
night
.
"
She
staggered
forward
to
strike
the
man
for
telling
the
terrible
truth
;
but
the
weakness
of
old
age
,
of
motherly
agony
,
overcame
her
,
and
she
sank
down
on
a
chair
,
and
covered
her
face
.
He
could
not
leave
her
.
When
next
she
spoke
,
it
was
in
an
imploring
,
feeble
,
child-like
voice
.
"
Oh
,
master
,
say
you
're
only
joking
.
I
ax
your
pardon
if
I
have
vexed
ye
,
but
please
say
you
're
only
joking
.
You
do
n't
know
what
Jem
is
to
me
.
"
She
looked
humbly
,
anxiously
up
at
him
.
"
I
wish
I
were
only
joking
,
missis
;
but
it
's
true
as
I
say
.
They
've
taken
him
up
on
charge
o
'
murder
.
It
were
his
gun
as
were
found
near
th
'
place
;
and
one
o
'
the
police
heard
him
quarrelling
with
Mr.
Carson
a
few
days
back
,
about
a
girl
.
"
"
About
a
girl
!
"
broke
in
the
mother
,
once
more
indignant
,
though
too
feeble
to
show
it
as
before
.
"
My
Jem
was
as
steady
as
—
"
she
hesitated
for
a
comparison
wherewith
to
finish
,
and
then
repeated
,
"
as
steady
as
Lucifer
,
and
he
were
an
angel
,
you
know
.
My
Jem
was
not
one
to
quarrel
about
a
girl
.
"
"
Ay
,
but
it
was
that
,
though
.
They
'd
got
her
name
quite
pat
.
The
man
had
heard
all
they
said
.
Mary
Barton
was
her
name
,
whoever
she
may
be
.
"
"
Mary
Barton
!
the
dirty
hussey
!
to
bring
my
Jem
into
trouble
of
this
kind
.
I
'll
give
it
her
well
when
I
see
her
:
that
I
will
.
Oh
!
my
poor
Jem
!
"
rocking
herself
to
and
fro
.
"
And
what
about
the
gun
?
What
did
ye
say
about
that
?
"
"
His
gun
were
found
on
th
'
spot
where
the
murder
were
done
.
"
"
That
's
a
lie
for
one
,
then
.
A
man
has
got
the
gun
now
,
safe
and
sound
;
I
saw
it
not
an
hour
ago
.
"
The
man
shook
his
head
.
"
Yes
,
he
has
indeed
.
A
friend
o
'
Jem
's
,
as
he
'd
lent
it
to
.
"
"
Did
you
know
the
chap
?
"
asked
the
man
,
who
was
really
anxious
for
Jem
's
exculpation
,
and
caught
a
gleam
of
hope
from
her
last
speech
.
"
No
!
I
ca
n't
say
as
I
did
.
But
he
were
put
on
as
a
workman
.
"
"
It
's
may
be
only
one
of
them
policemen
,
disguised
.
"
"
Nay
;
they
'd
never
go
for
to
do
that
,
and
trick
me
into
telling
on
my
own
son
.
It
would
be
like
seething
a
kid
in
its
mother
's
milk
;
and
that
th
'
Bible
forbids
.
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
"
replied
the
man
.
Soon
afterwards
he
went
away
,
feeling
unable
to
comfort
,
yet
distressed
at
the
sight
of
sorrow
;
she
would
fain
have
detained
him
,
but
go
he
would
.
And
she
was
alone
.
She
never
for
an
instant
believed
Jem
guilty
;
she
would
have
doubted
if
the
sun
were
fire
,
first
:
but
sorrow
,
desolation
,
and
,
at
times
,
anger
took
possession
of
her
mind
.
She
told
the
unconscious
Alice
,
hoping
to
rouse
her
to
sympathy
;
and
then
was
disappointed
,
because
,
still
smiling
and
calm
,
she
murmured
of
her
mother
,
and
the
happy
days
of
infancy
.
CHAPTER
XX
.
MARY
'S
DREAM
—
AND
THE
AWAKENING
.
"
I
saw
where
stark
and
cold
he
lay
,
Beneath
the
gallows-tree
,
And
every
one
did
point
and
say
,
'
'
Twas
there
he
died
for
thee
!
'
"
Oh
!
weeping
heart
!
Oh
,
bleeding
heart
!
What
boots
thy
pity
now
?
Bid
from
his
eyes
that
shade
depart
,
That
death-damp
from
his
brow
!
"
"
The
Birtle
Tragedy
.
"
So
there
was
no
more
peace
in
the
house
of
sickness
,
except
to
Alice
,
the
dying
Alice
.
But
Mary
knew
nothing
of
the
afternoon
's
occurrences
;
and
gladly
did
she
breathe
in
the
fresh
air
,
as
she
left
Miss
Simmonds
'
house
,
to
hasten
to
the
Wilsons
'
.
The
very
change
,
from
the
in-door
to
the
out-door
atmosphere
,
seemed
to
alter
the
current
of
her
thoughts
.
She
thought
less
of
the
dreadful
subject
which
had
so
haunted
her
all
day
;
she
cared
less
for
the
upbraiding
speeches
of
her
fellow
work-women
;
the
old
association
of
comfort
and
sympathy
received
from
Alice
gave
her
the
idea
that
,
even
now
,
her
bodily
presence
would
soothe
and
compose
those
who
were
in
trouble
,
changed
,
unconscious
,
and
absent
though
her
spirit
might
be
.
Then
,
again
,
she
reproached
herself
a
little
for
the
feeling
of
pleasure
she
experienced
,
in
thinking
that
he
whom
she
dreaded
could
never
more
beset
her
path
;
in
the
security
with
which
she
could
pass
each
street
corner
—
each
shop
,
where
he
used
to
lie
in
ambush
.
Oh
!
beating
heart
!
was
there
no
other
little
thought
of
joy
lurking
within
,
to
gladden
the
very
air
without
?
Was
she
not
going
to
meet
,
to
see
,
to
hear
Jem
;
and
could
they
fail
at
last
to
understand
each
other
's
loving
hearts
!
She
softly
lifted
the
latch
,
with
the
privilege
of
friendship
.
He
was
not
there
,
but
his
mother
was
standing
by
the
fire
,
stirring
some
little
mess
or
other
.
Never
mind
!
he
would
come
soon
:
and
with
an
unmixed
desire
to
do
her
grateful
duty
to
all
belonging
to
him
,
she
stepped
lightly
forwards
,
unheard
by
the
old
lady
,
who
was
partly
occupied
by
the
simmering
,
bubbling
sound
of
her
bit
of
cookery
;
but
more
with
her
own
sad
thoughts
,
and
wailing
,
half-uttered
murmurings
.
Mary
took
off
bonnet
and
shawl
with
speed
,
and
advancing
,
made
Mrs.
Wilson
conscious
of
her
presence
,
by
saying
,
"
Let
me
do
that
for
you
.
I
'm
sure
you
mun
be
tired
.
"
Mrs.
Wilson
slowly
turned
round
,
and
her
eyes
gleamed
like
those
of
a
pent-up
wild
beast
,
as
she
recognised
her
visitor
.
"
And
is
it
thee
that
dares
set
foot
in
this
house
,
after
what
has
come
to
pass
?
Is
it
not
enough
to
have
robbed
me
of
my
boy
with
thy
arts
and
thy
profligacy
,
but
thou
must
come
here
to
crow
over
me
—
me
—
his
mother
?
Dost
thou
know
where
he
is
,
thou
bad
hussy
,
with
thy
great
blue
eyes
and
yellow
hair
,
to
lead
men
on
to
ruin
?
Out
upon
thee
,
with
thy
angel
's
face
,
thou
whited
sepulchre
!
Dost
thou
know
where
Jem
is
,
all
through
thee
?
"
"
No
!
"
quivered
out
poor
Mary
,
scarcely
conscious
that
she
spoke
,
so
daunted
,
so
terrified
was
she
by
the
indignant
mother
's
greeting
.
"
He
's
lying
in
th
'
New
Bailey
,
"
slowly
and
distinctly
spoke
the
mother
,
watching
the
effect
of
her
words
,
as
if
believing
in
their
infinite
power
to
pain
.
"
There
he
lies
,
waiting
to
take
his
trial
for
murdering
young
Mr.
Carson
.
"
There
was
no
answer
;
but
such
a
blanched
face
,
such
wild
,
distended
eyes
,
such
trembling
limbs
,
instinctively
seeking
support
!
"
Did
you
know
Mr.
Carson
as
now
lies
dead
?
"
continued
the
merciless
woman
.
"
Folk
say
you
did
,
and
knew
him
but
too
well
.
And
that
for
the
sake
of
such
as
you
,
my
precious
child
shot
yon
chap
.
But
he
did
not
.
I
know
he
did
not
.
They
may
hang
him
,
but
his
mother
will
speak
to
his
innocence
with
her
last
dying
breath
.
"
She
stopped
more
from
exhaustion
than
want
of
words
.
Mary
spoke
,
but
in
so
changed
and
choked
a
voice
that
the
old
woman
almost
started
.
It
seemed
as
if
some
third
person
must
be
in
the
room
,
the
voice
was
so
hoarse
and
strange
.
"
Please
,
say
it
again
.
I
do
n't
quite
understand
you
.
What
has
Jem
done
?
Please
to
tell
me
.
"
"
I
never
said
he
had
done
it
.
I
said
,
and
I
'll
swear
that
he
never
did
do
it
.
I
do
n't
care
who
heard
'
em
quarrel
,
or
if
it
is
his
gun
as
were
found
near
the
body
.
It
's
not
my
own
Jem
as
would
go
for
to
kill
any
man
,
choose
how
a
girl
had
jilted
him
.
My
own
good
Jem
,
as
was
a
blessing
sent
upon
the
house
where
he
was
born
.
"
Tears
came
into
the
mother
's
burning
eyes
as
her
heart
recurred
to
the
days
when
she
had
rocked
the
cradle
of
her
"
first-born
;
"
and
then
,
rapidly
passing
over
events
,
till
the
full
consciousness
of
his
present
situation
came
upon
her
,
and
perhaps
annoyed
at
having
shown
any
softness
of
character
in
the
presence
of
the
Dalilah
who
had
lured
him
to
his
danger
,
she
spoke
again
,
and
in
a
sharper
tone
.
"
I
told
him
,
and
told
him
to
leave
off
thinking
on
thee
;
but
he
would
n't
be
led
by
me
.
Thee
!
wench
!
thou
were
not
good
enough
to
wipe
the
dust
off
his
feet
.
A
vile
,
flirting
quean
as
thou
art
.
It
's
well
thy
mother
does
not
know
(
poor
body
)
what
a
good-for-nothing
thou
art
.
"
"
Mother
!
oh
mother
!
"
said
Mary
,
as
if
appealing
to
the
merciful
dead
.
"
But
I
was
not
good
enough
for
him
!
I
know
I
was
not
,
"
added
she
,
in
a
voice
of
touching
humility
.
For
through
her
heart
went
tolling
the
ominous
,
prophetic
words
he
had
used
when
he
had
last
spoken
to
her
—
"
Mary
!
you
'll
may
be
hear
of
me
as
a
drunkard
,
and
may
be
as
a
thief
,
and
may
be
as
a
murderer
.
Remember
!
when
all
are
speaking
ill
of
me
,
yo
will
have
no
right
to
blame
me
,
for
it
's
your
cruelty
that
will
have
made
me
what
I
feel
I
shall
become
.
"
And
she
did
not
blame
him
,
though
she
doubted
not
his
guilt
;
she
felt
how
madly
she
might
act
if
once
jealous
of
him
,
and
how
much
cause
had
she
not
given
him
for
jealousy
,
miserable
guilty
wretch
that
she
was
!
Speak
on
,
desolate
mother
!
Abuse
her
as
you
will
.
Her
broken
spirit
feels
to
have
merited
all
.
But
her
last
humble
,
self-abased
words
had
touched
Mrs.
Wilson
's
heart
,
sore
as
it
was
;
and
she
looked
at
the
snow-pale
girl
with
those
piteous
eyes
,
so
hopeless
of
comfort
,
and
she
relented
in
spite
of
herself
.
"
Thou
seest
what
comes
of
light
conduct
,
Mary
!
It
's
thy
doing
that
suspicion
has
lighted
on
him
,
who
is
as
innocent
as
the
babe
unborn
.
Thou'lt
have
much
to
answer
for
if
he
's
hung
.
Thou'lt
have
my
death
too
at
thy
door
!
"
Harsh
as
these
words
seem
,
she
spoke
them
in
a
milder
tone
of
voice
than
she
had
yet
used
.
But
the
idea
of
Jem
on
the
gallows
,
Jem
dead
,
took
possession
of
Mary
,
and
she
covered
her
eyes
with
her
wan
hands
,
as
if
indeed
to
shut
out
the
fearful
sight
.
She
murmured
some
words
,
which
,
though
spoken
low
,
as
if
choked
up
from
the
depths
of
agony
,
Jane
Wilson
caught
.
"
My
heart
is
breaking
,
"
said
she
,
feebly
.
"
My
heart
is
breaking
.
"
"
Nonsense
!
"
said
Mrs.
Wilson
.
"
Do
n't
talk
in
that
silly
way
.
My
heart
has
a
better
right
to
break
than
yours
,
and
yet
I
hold
up
,
you
see
.
But
,
oh
dear
!
oh
dear
!
"
with
a
sudden
revulsion
of
feeling
,
as
the
reality
of
the
danger
in
which
her
son
was
placed
pressed
upon
her
.
"
What
am
I
saying
?
How
could
I
hold
up
if
thou
wert
gone
,
Jem
?
Though
I
'm
as
sure
as
I
stand
here
of
thy
innocence
,
if
they
hang
thee
,
my
lad
,
I
will
lie
down
and
die
!
"
She
sobbed
aloud
with
bitter
consciousness
of
the
fearful
chance
awaiting
her
child
.
She
cried
more
passionately
still
.
Mary
roused
herself
up
.
"
Oh
,
let
me
stay
with
you
,
at
any
rate
,
till
we
know
the
end
.
Dearest
Mrs.
Wilson
,
may
n't
I
stay
?
"
The
more
obstinately
and
upbraidingly
Mrs.
Wilson
refused
,
the
more
Mary
pleaded
,
with
ever
the
same
soft
,
entreating
cry
,
"
Let
me
stay
with
you
.
"
Her
stunned
soul
seemed
to
bound
its
wishes
,
for
the
hour
at
least
,
to
remaining
with
one
who
loved
and
sorrowed
for
the
same
human
being
that
she
did
.
But
no.
Mrs.
Wilson
was
inflexible
.
"
I
've
may
be
been
a
bit
hard
on
you
,
Mary
,
I
'll
own
that
.
But
I
cannot
abide
you
yet
with
me
.
I
cannot
but
remember
it
's
your
giddiness
as
has
wrought
this
woe
.
I
'll
stay
wi
'
Alice
,
and
perhaps
Mrs.
Davenport
may
come
help
a
bit
.
I
cannot
put
up
with
you
about
me
.
Good-night
.
To-morrow
I
may
look
on
you
different
,
may
be
.
Good-night
.
"
And
Mary
turned
out
of
the
house
,
which
had
been
his
home
,
where
he
was
loved
,
and
mourned
for
,
into
the
busy
,
desolate
,
crowded
street
,
where
they
were
crying
halfpenny
broadsides
,
giving
an
account
of
the
bloody
murder
,
the
coroner
's
inquest
,
and
a
raw-head-and-bloody-bones
picture
of
the
suspected
murderer
,
James
Wilson
.
But
Mary
heard
not
,
she
heeded
not
.
She
staggered
on
like
one
in
a
dream
.
With
hung
head
and
tottering
steps
,
she
instinctively
chose
the
shortest
cut
to
that
home
,
which
was
to
her
,
in
her
present
state
of
mind
,
only
the
hiding
place
of
four
walls
,
where
she
might
vent
her
agony
,
unseen
and
unnoticed
by
the
keen
,
unkind
world
without
,
but
where
no
welcome
,
no
love
,
no
sympathising
tears
awaited
her
.
As
she
neared
that
home
,
within
two
minutes
'
walk
of
it
,
her
impetuous
course
was
arrested
by
a
light
touch
on
her
arm
,
and
turning
hastily
,
she
saw
a
little
Italian
boy
with
his
humble
show-box
,
—
a
white
mouse
,
or
some
such
thing
.
The
setting
sun
cast
its
red
glow
on
his
face
,
otherwise
the
olive
complexion
would
have
been
very
pale
;
and
the
glittering
tear-drops
hung
on
the
long
curled
eye-lashes
.
With
his
soft
voice
and
pleading
looks
,
he
uttered
,
in
his
pretty
broken
English
,
the
words
"
Hungry
!
so
hungry
.
"
And
,
as
if
to
aid
by
gesture
the
effect
of
the
solitary
word
,
he
pointed
to
his
mouth
,
with
its
white
quivering
lips
.
Mary
answered
him
impatiently
,
"
Oh
,
lad
,
hunger
is
nothing
—
nothing
!
"
And
she
rapidly
passed
on
.
But
her
heart
upbraided
her
the
next
minute
with
her
unrelenting
speech
,
and
she
hastily
entered
her
door
and
seized
the
scanty
remnant
of
food
which
the
cupboard
contained
,
and
retraced
her
steps
to
the
place
where
the
little
hopeless
stranger
had
sunk
down
by
his
mute
companion
in
loneliness
and
starvation
,
and
was
raining
down
tears
as
he
spoke
in
some
foreign
tongue
,
with
low
cries
for
the
far
distant
"
Mamma
mia
!
"
With
the
elasticity
of
heart
belonging
to
childhood
he
sprang
up
as
he
saw
the
food
the
girl
brought
;
she
whose
face
,
lovely
in
its
woe
,
had
tempted
him
first
to
address
her
;
and
,
with
the
graceful
courtesy
of
his
country
,
he
looked
up
and
smiled
while
he
kissed
her
hand
,
and
then
poured
forth
his
thanks
,
and
shared
her
bounty
with
his
little
pet
companion
.
She
stood
an
instant
,
diverted
from
the
thought
of
her
own
grief
by
the
sight
of
his
infantine
gladness
;
and
then
bending
down
and
kissing
his
smooth
forehead
,
she
left
him
,
and
sought
to
be
alone
with
her
agony
once
more
.
She
re-entered
the
house
,
locked
the
door
,
and
tore
off
her
bonnet
,
as
if
greedy
of
every
moment
which
took
her
from
the
full
indulgence
of
painful
,
despairing
thought
.
Then
she
threw
herself
on
the
ground
,
yes
,
on
the
hard
flags
she
threw
her
soft
limbs
down
;
and
the
comb
fell
out
of
her
hair
,
and
those
bright
tresses
swept
the
dusty
floor
,
while
she
pillowed
and
hid
her
face
on
her
arms
,
and
burst
forth
into
hard
,
suffocating
sobs
.
Oh
,
earth
!
thou
didst
seem
but
a
dreary
dwelling-place
for
thy
poor
child
that
night
.
None
to
comfort
,
none
to
pity
!
And
self-reproach
gnawing
at
her
heart
.
Oh
,
why
did
she
ever
listen
to
the
tempter
?
Why
did
she
ever
give
ear
to
her
own
suggestions
,
and
cravings
after
wealth
and
grandeur
?
Why
had
she
thought
it
a
fine
thing
to
have
a
rich
lover
?
She
—
she
had
deserved
it
all
;
but
he
was
the
victim
,
—
he
,
the
beloved
.
She
could
not
conjecture
,
she
could
not
even
pause
to
think
who
had
revealed
,
or
how
he
had
discovered
her
acquaintance
with
Harry
Carson
.
It
was
but
too
clear
,
some
way
or
another
,
he
had
learnt
all
;
and
what
would
he
think
of
her
?
No
hope
of
his
love
,
—
oh
,
that
she
would
give
up
,
and
be
content
;
it
was
his
life
,
his
precious
life
,
that
was
threatened
.
Then
she
tried
to
recall
the
particulars
,
which
,
when
Mrs.
Wilson
had
given
them
,
had
fallen
but
upon
a
deafened
ear
,
—
something
about
a
gun
,
a
quarrel
,
which
she
could
not
remember
clearly
.
Oh
,
how
terrible
to
think
of
his
crime
,
his
blood-guiltiness
;
he
who
had
hitherto
been
so
good
,
so
noble
,
and
now
an
assassin
!
And
then
she
shrank
from
him
in
thought
;
and
then
,
with
bitter
remorse
,
clung
more
closely
to
his
image
with
passionate
self-upbraiding
.
Was
it
not
she
who
had
led
him
to
the
pit
into
which
he
had
fallen
?
Was
she
to
blame
him
?
She
to
judge
him
?
Who
could
tell
how
maddened
he
might
have
been
by
jealousy
;
how
one
moment
's
uncontrollable
passion
might
have
led
him
to
become
a
murderer
?
And
she
had
blamed
him
in
her
heart
after
his
last
deprecating
,
imploring
,
prophetic
speech
!
Then
she
burst
out
crying
afresh
;
and
when
weary
of
crying
,
fell
to
thinking
again
.
The
gallows
!
The
gallows
!
Black
it
stood
against
the
burning
light
which
dazzled
her
shut
eyes
,
press
on
them
as
she
would
.
Oh
!
she
was
going
mad
;
and
for
awhile
she
lay
outwardly
still
,
but
with
the
pulses
careering
through
her
head
with
wild
vehemence
.
And
then
came
a
strange
forgetfulness
of
the
present
,
in
thought
of
the
long-past
times
;
—
of
those
days
when
she
hid
her
face
on
her
mother
's
pitying
,
loving
bosom
,
and
heard
tender
words
of
comfort
,
be
her
grief
or
her
error
what
it
might
;
—
of
those
days
when
she
had
felt
as
if
her
mother
's
love
was
too
mighty
not
to
last
for
ever
;
—
of
those
days
when
hunger
had
been
to
her
(
as
to
the
little
stranger
she
had
that
evening
relieved
)
something
to
be
thought
about
,
and
mourned
over
;
—
when
Jem
and
she
had
played
together
;
he
,
with
the
condescension
of
an
older
child
,
and
she
,
with
unconscious
earnestness
,
believing
that
he
was
as
much
gratified
with
important
trifles
as
she
was
;
—
when
her
father
was
a
cheery-hearted
man
,
rich
in
the
love
of
his
wife
,
and
the
companionship
of
his
friend
;
—
when
(
for
it
still
worked
round
to
that
)
,
when
mother
was
alive
,
and
he
was
not
a
murderer
.
And
then
Heaven
blessed
her
unaware
,
and
she
sank
from
remembering
,
to
wandering
,
unconnected
thought
,
and
thence
to
sleep
.
Yes
!
it
was
sleep
,
though
in
that
strange
posture
,
on
that
hard
cold
bed
;
and
she
dreamt
of
the
happy
times
of
long
ago
,
and
her
mother
came
to
her
,
and
kissed
her
as
she
lay
,
and
once
more
the
dead
were
alive
again
in
that
happy
world
of
dreams
.
All
was
restored
to
the
gladness
of
childhood
,
even
to
the
little
kitten
which
had
been
her
playmate
and
bosom
friend
then
,
and
which
had
been
long
forgotten
in
her
waking
hours
.
All
the
loved
ones
were
there
!
She
suddenly
wakened
!
Clear
and
wide
awake
!
Some
noise
had
startled
her
from
sleep
.
She
sat
up
,
and
put
her
hair
(
still
wet
with
tears
)
back
from
her
flushed
cheeks
,
and
listened
.
At
first
she
could
only
hear
her
beating
heart
.
All
was
still
without
,
for
it
was
after
midnight
,
such
hours
of
agony
had
passed
away
;
but
the
moon
shone
clearly
in
at
the
unshuttered
window
,
making
the
room
almost
as
light
as
day
,
in
its
cold
ghastly
radiance
.
There
was
a
low
knock
at
the
door
!
A
strange
feeling
crept
over
Mary
's
heart
,
as
if
something
spiritual
were
near
;
as
if
the
dead
,
so
lately
present
in
her
dreams
,
were
yet
gliding
and
hovering
round
her
,
with
their
dim
,
dread
forms
.
And
yet
,
why
dread
?
Had
they
not
loved
her
?
—
and
who
loved
her
now
?
Was
she
not
lonely
enough
to
welcome
the
spirits
of
the
dead
,
who
had
loved
her
while
here
?
If
her
mother
had
conscious
being
,
her
love
for
her
child
endured
.
So
she
quieted
her
fears
,
and
listened
—
listened
still
.
"
Mary
!
Mary
!
open
the
door
!
"
as
a
little
movement
on
her
part
seemed
to
tell
the
being
outside
of
her
wakeful
,
watchful
state
.
They
were
the
accents
of
her
mother
's
voice
;
the
very
south-country
pronunciation
,
that
Mary
so
well
remembered
;
and
which
she
had
sometimes
tried
to
imitate
when
alone
,
with
the
fond
mimicry
of
affection
.
So
,
without
fear
,
without
hesitation
,
she
rose
and
unbarred
the
door
.
There
,
against
the
moonlight
,
stood
a
form
,
so
closely
resembling
her
dead
mother
,
that
Mary
never
doubted
the
identity
,
but
exclaiming
(
as
if
she
were
a
terrified
child
,
secure
of
safety
when
near
the
protecting
care
of
its
parent
)
—
"
Oh
!
mother
!
mother
!
You
are
come
at
last
!
"
She
threw
herself
,
or
rather
fell
,
into
the
trembling
arms
of
her
long-lost
,
unrecognised
aunt
Esther
.
CHAPTER
XXI
.
ESTHER
'S
MOTIVE
IN
SEEKING
MARY
.
"
My
rest
is
gone
,
My
heart
is
sore
,
Peace
find
I
never
,
And
never
more
.
"
Margaret
's
Song
in
"
Faust
.
"
I
must
go
back
a
little
to
explain
the
motives
which
caused
Esther
to
seek
an
interview
with
her
niece
.
The
murder
had
been
committed
early
on
Thursday
night
,
and
between
then
and
the
dawn
of
the
following
day
there
was
ample
time
for
the
news
to
spread
far
and
wide
among
all
those
whose
duty
,
or
whose
want
,
or
whose
errors
,
caused
them
to
be
abroad
in
the
streets
of
Manchester
.
Among
those
who
listened
to
the
tale
of
violence
was
Esther
.
A
craving
desire
to
know
more
took
possession
of
her
mind
.
Far
away
as
she
was
from
Turner
Street
,
she
immediately
set
off
to
the
scene
of
the
murder
,
which
was
faintly
lighted
by
the
gray
dawn
as
she
reached
the
spot
.
It
was
so
quiet
and
still
that
she
could
hardly
believe
it
to
be
the
place
.
The
only
vestige
of
any
scuffle
or
violence
was
a
trail
on
the
dust
,
as
if
somebody
had
been
lying
there
,
and
then
been
raised
by
extraneous
force
.
The
little
birds
were
beginning
to
hop
and
twitter
in
the
leafless
hedge
,
making
the
only
sound
that
was
near
and
distinct
.
She
crossed
into
the
field
where
she
guessed
the
murderer
to
have
stood
;
it
was
easy
of
access
,
for
the
worn
,
stunted
hawthorn-hedge
had
many
gaps
in
it
.
The
night-smell
of
bruised
grass
came
up
from
under
her
feet
,
as
she
went
towards
the
saw-pit
and
carpenter
's
shed
,
which
,
as
I
have
said
before
,
were
in
a
corner
of
the
field
near
the
road
,
and
where
one
of
her
informants
had
told
her
it
was
supposed
by
the
police
that
the
murderer
had
lurked
while
waiting
for
his
victim
.
There
was
no
sign
,
however
,
that
any
one
had
been
about
the
place
.
If
the
grass
had
been
bruised
or
bent
where
he
had
trod
,
it
had
had
enough
of
the
elasticity
of
life
to
raise
itself
under
the
dewy
influences
of
night
.
She
hushed
her
breath
with
involuntary
awe
,
but
nothing
else
told
of
the
violent
deed
by
which
a
fellow-creature
had
passed
away
.
She
stood
still
for
a
minute
,
imagining
to
herself
the
position
of
the
parties
,
guided
by
the
only
circumstance
which
afforded
any
evidence
,
the
trailing
mark
on
the
dust
in
the
road
.
Suddenly
(
it
was
before
the
sun
had
risen
above
the
horizon
)
she
became
aware
of
something
white
in
the
hedge
.
All
other
colours
wore
the
same
murky
hue
,
though
the
forms
of
objects
were
perfectly
distinct
.
What
was
it
?
It
could
not
be
a
flower
;
—
that
,
the
time
of
year
made
clear
.
A
frozen
lump
of
snow
,
lingering
late
in
one
of
the
gnarled
tufts
of
the
hedge
?
She
stepped
forward
to
examine
.
It
proved
to
be
a
little
piece
of
stiff
writing-paper
compressed
into
a
round
shape
.
She
understood
it
instantly
;
it
was
the
paper
that
had
served
as
wadding
for
the
murderer
's
gun
.
Then
she
had
been
standing
just
where
the
murderer
must
have
been
but
a
few
hours
before
;
probably
(
as
the
rumour
had
spread
through
the
town
,
reaching
her
ears
)
one
of
the
poor
maddened
turn-outs
,
who
hung
about
everywhere
,
with
black
,
fierce
looks
,
as
if
contemplating
some
deed
of
violence
.
Her
sympathy
was
all
with
them
,
for
she
had
known
what
they
suffered
;
and
besides
this
there
was
her
own
individual
dislike
of
Mr.
Carson
,
and
dread
of
him
for
Mary
's
sake
.
Yet
,
poor
Mary
!
Death
was
a
terrible
,
though
sure
,
remedy
for
the
evil
Esther
had
dreaded
for
her
;
and
how
would
she
stand
the
shock
,
loving
as
her
aunt
believed
her
to
do
?
Poor
Mary
!
who
would
comfort
her
?
Esther
's
thoughts
began
to
picture
her
sorrow
,
her
despair
,
when
the
news
of
her
lover
's
death
should
reach
her
;
and
she
longed
to
tell
her
there
might
have
been
a
keener
grief
yet
had
he
lived
.
Bright
,
beautiful
came
the
slanting
rays
of
the
morning
sun
.
It
was
time
for
such
as
she
to
hide
themselves
,
with
the
other
obscene
things
of
night
,
from
the
glorious
light
of
day
,
which
was
only
for
the
happy
.
So
she
turned
her
steps
towards
town
,
still
holding
the
paper
.
But
in
getting
over
the
hedge
it
encumbered
her
to
hold
it
in
her
clasped
hand
,
and
she
threw
it
down
.
She
passed
on
a
few
steps
,
her
thoughts
still
of
Mary
,
till
the
idea
crossed
her
mind
,
could
it
(
blank
as
it
appeared
to
be
)
give
any
clue
to
the
murderer
?
As
I
said
before
,
her
sympathies
were
all
on
that
side
,
so
she
turned
back
and
picked
it
up
;
and
then
feeling
as
if
in
some
measure
an
accessory
,
she
hid
it
unexamined
in
her
hand
,
and
hastily
passed
out
of
the
street
at
the
opposite
end
to
that
by
which
she
had
entered
it
.
And
what
do
you
think
she
felt
,
when
,
having
walked
some
distance
from
the
spot
,
she
dared
to
open
the
crushed
paper
,
and
saw
written
on
it
Mary
Barton
's
name
,
and
not
only
that
,
but
the
street
in
which
she
lived
!
True
,
a
letter
or
two
was
torn
off
,
but
,
nevertheless
,
there
was
the
name
clear
to
be
recognised
.
And
oh
!
what
terrible
thought
flashed
into
her
mind
;
or
was
it
only
fancy
?
But
it
looked
very
like
the
writing
which
she
had
once
known
well
—
the
writing
of
Jem
Wilson
,
who
,
when
she
lived
at
her
brother-in-law
's
,
and
he
was
a
near
neighbour
,
had
often
been
employed
by
her
to
write
her
letters
to
people
,
to
whom
she
was
ashamed
of
sending
her
own
misspelt
scrawl
.
She
remembered
the
wonderful
flourishes
she
had
so
much
admired
in
those
days
,
while
she
sat
by
dictating
,
and
Jem
,
in
all
the
pride
of
newly-acquired
penmanship
,
used
to
dazzle
her
eyes
by
extraordinary
graces
and
twirls
.
If
it
were
his
!
Oh
!
perhaps
it
was
merely
that
her
head
was
running
so
on
Mary
,
that
she
was
associating
every
trifle
with
her
.
As
if
only
one
person
wrote
in
that
flourishing
,
meandering
style
!
It
was
enough
to
fill
her
mind
to
think
from
what
she
might
have
saved
Mary
by
securing
the
paper
.
She
would
look
at
it
just
once
more
,
and
see
if
some
very
dense
and
stupid
policeman
could
have
mistaken
the
name
,
or
if
Mary
would
certainly
have
been
dragged
into
notice
in
the
affair
.
No
!
no
one
could
have
mistaken
the
"
ry
Barton
,
"
and
it
was
Jem
's
handwriting
!
Oh
!
if
it
was
so
,
she
understood
it
all
,
and
she
had
been
the
cause
!
With
her
violent
and
unregulated
nature
,
rendered
morbid
by
the
course
of
life
she
led
,
and
her
consciousness
of
her
degradation
,
she
cursed
herself
for
the
interference
which
she
believed
had
led
to
this
;
for
the
information
and
the
warning
she
had
given
to
Jem
,
which
had
roused
him
to
this
murderous
action
.
How
could
she
,
the
abandoned
and
polluted
outcast
,
ever
have
dared
to
hope
for
a
blessing
,
even
on
her
efforts
to
do
good
?
The
black
curse
of
Heaven
rested
on
all
her
doings
,
were
they
for
good
or
for
evil
.
Poor
,
diseased
mind
!
and
there
were
none
to
minister
to
thee
!
So
she
wandered
about
,
too
restless
to
take
her
usual
heavy
morning
's
sleep
,
up
and
down
the
streets
,
greedily
listening
to
every
word
of
the
passers
by
,
and
loitering
near
each
group
of
talkers
,
anxious
to
scrape
together
every
morsel
of
information
,
or
conjecture
,
or
suspicion
,
though
without
possessing
any
definite
purpose
in
all
this
.
And
ever
and
always
she
clenched
the
scrap
of
paper
which
might
betray
so
much
,
until
her
nails
had
deeply
indented
the
palm
of
her
hand
;
so
fearful
was
she
in
her
nervous
dread
,
lest
unawares
she
should
let
it
drop
.
Towards
the
middle
of
the
day
she
could
no
longer
evade
the
body
's
craving
want
of
rest
and
refreshment
;
but
the
rest
was
taken
in
a
spirit
vault
,
and
the
refreshment
was
a
glass
of
gin
.
Then
she
started
up
from
the
stupor
she
had
taken
for
repose
;
and
suddenly
driven
before
the
gusty
impulses
of
her
mind
,
she
pushed
her
way
to
the
place
where
at
that
very
time
the
police
were
bringing
the
information
they
had
gathered
with
regard
to
the
all-engrossing
murder
.
She
listened
with
painful
acuteness
of
comprehension
to
dropped
words
and
unconnected
sentences
,
the
meaning
of
which
became
clearer
,
and
yet
more
clear
to
her
.
Jem
was
suspected
.
Jem
was
ascertained
to
be
the
murderer
.
She
saw
him
(
although
he
,
absorbed
in
deep
sad
thought
,
saw
her
not
)
,
she
saw
him
brought
hand-cuffed
and
guarded
out
of
the
coach
.
She
saw
him
enter
the
station
,
—
she
gasped
for
breath
till
he
came
out
,
still
hand-cuffed
,
and
still
guarded
,
to
be
conveyed
to
the
New
Bailey
.
He
was
the
only
one
who
had
spoken
to
her
with
hope
,
that
she
might
yet
win
her
way
back
to
virtue
.
His
words
had
lingered
in
her
heart
with
a
sort
of
call
to
Heaven
,
like
distant
Sabbath
bells
,
although
in
her
despair
she
had
turned
away
from
his
voice
.
He
was
the
only
one
who
had
spoken
to
her
kindly
.
The
murder
,
shocking
though
it
was
,
was
an
absent
,
abstract
thing
,
on
which
her
thoughts
could
not
,
and
would
not
dwell
;
all
that
was
present
in
her
mind
was
Jem
's
danger
,
and
his
kindness
.
Then
Mary
came
to
remembrance
.
Esther
wondered
till
she
was
sick
of
wondering
,
in
what
way
she
was
taking
the
affair
.
In
some
manner
it
would
be
a
terrible
blow
for
the
poor
,
motherless
girl
;
with
her
dreadful
father
,
too
,
who
was
to
Esther
a
sort
of
accusing
angel
.
She
set
off
towards
the
court
where
Mary
lived
,
to
pick
up
what
she
could
there
of
information
.
But
she
was
ashamed
to
enter
in
where
once
she
had
been
innocent
,
and
hung
about
the
neighbouring
streets
,
not
daring
to
question
,
so
she
learnt
but
little
;
nothing
in
fact
but
the
knowledge
of
John
Barton
's
absence
from
home
.
She
went
up
a
dark
entry
to
rest
her
weary
limbs
on
a
door-step
and
think
.
Her
elbows
on
her
knees
,
her
face
hidden
in
her
hands
,
she
tried
to
gather
together
and
arrange
her
thoughts
.
But
still
every
now
and
then
she
opened
her
hand
to
see
if
the
paper
were
yet
there
.
She
got
up
at
last
.
She
had
formed
a
plan
,
and
had
a
course
of
action
to
look
forward
to
that
would
satisfy
one
craving
desire
at
least
.
The
time
was
long
gone
by
when
there
was
much
wisdom
or
consistency
in
her
projects
.
It
was
getting
late
,
and
that
was
so
much
the
better
.
She
went
to
a
pawn-shop
,
and
took
off
her
finery
in
a
back
room
.
She
was
known
by
the
people
,
and
had
a
character
for
honesty
,
so
she
had
no
very
great
difficulty
in
inducing
them
to
let
her
have
a
suit
of
outer
clothes
,
befitting
the
wife
of
a
working-man
,
a
black
silk
bonnet
,
a
printed
gown
,
a
plaid
shawl
,
dirty
and
rather
worn
to
be
sure
,
but
which
had
a
sort
of
sanctity
to
the
eyes
of
the
street-walker
as
being
the
appropriate
garb
of
that
happy
class
to
which
she
could
never
,
never
more
belong
.
She
looked
at
herself
in
the
little
glass
which
hung
against
the
wall
,
and
sadly
shaking
her
head
,
thought
how
easy
were
the
duties
of
that
Eden
of
innocence
from
which
she
was
shut
out
;
how
she
would
work
,
and
toil
,
and
starve
,
and
die
,
if
necessary
,
for
a
husband
,
a
home
,
—
for
children
,
—
but
that
thought
she
could
not
bear
;
a
little
form
rose
up
,
stern
in
its
innocence
,
from
the
witches
'
cauldron
of
her
imagination
,
and
she
rushed
into
action
again
.
You
know
now
how
she
came
to
stand
by
the
threshold
of
Mary
's
door
,
waiting
,
trembling
,
until
the
latch
was
lifted
,
and
her
niece
,
with
words
that
spoke
of
such
desolation
among
the
living
,
fell
into
her
arms
.
She
had
felt
as
if
some
holy
spell
would
prevent
her
(
even
as
the
unholy
Lady
Geraldine
was
prevented
,
in
the
abode
of
Christabel
)
from
crossing
the
threshold
of
that
home
of
her
early
innocence
;
and
she
had
meant
to
wait
for
an
invitation
.
But
Mary
's
helpless
action
did
away
with
all
reluctant
feeling
,
and
she
bore
or
dragged
her
to
a
seat
,
and
looked
on
her
bewildered
eyes
,
as
,
puzzled
with
the
likeness
,
which
was
not
identity
,
she
gazed
on
her
aunt
's
features
.
In
pursuance
of
her
plan
,
Esther
meant
to
assume
the
manners
and
character
,
as
she
had
done
the
dress
,
of
a
mechanic
's
wife
;
but
then
,
to
account
for
her
long
absence
,
and
her
long
silence
towards
all
that
ought
to
have
been
dear
to
her
,
it
was
necessary
that
she
should
put
on
an
indifference
far
distant
from
her
heart
,
which
was
loving
and
yearning
,
in
spite
of
all
its
faults
.
And
,
perhaps
,
she
overacted
her
part
,
for
certainly
Mary
felt
a
kind
of
repugnance
to
the
changed
and
altered
aunt
,
who
so
suddenly
re-appeared
on
the
scene
;
and
it
would
have
cut
Esther
to
the
very
core
,
could
she
have
known
how
her
little
darling
of
former
days
was
feeling
towards
her
.
"
You
do
n't
remember
me
I
see
,
Mary
!
"
she
began
.
"
It
's
a
long
while
since
I
left
you
all
,
to
be
sure
;
and
I
,
many
a
time
,
thought
of
coming
to
see
you
,
and
—
and
your
father
.
But
I
live
so
far
off
,
and
am
always
so
busy
,
I
cannot
do
just
what
I
wish
.
You
recollect
aunt
Esther
,
do
n't
you
,
Mary
?
"
"
Are
you
aunt
Hetty
?
"
asked
Mary
,
faintly
,
still
looking
at
the
face
which
was
so
different
from
the
old
recollections
of
her
aunt
's
fresh
dazzling
beauty
.
"
Yes
!
I
am
aunt
Hetty
.
Oh
!
it
's
so
long
since
I
heard
that
name
,
"
sighing
forth
the
thoughts
it
suggested
;
then
recovering
herself
,
and
striving
after
the
hard
character
she
wished
to
assume
,
she
continued
:
"
And
to-day
I
heard
a
friend
of
yours
,
and
of
mine
too
,
long
ago
,
was
in
trouble
,
and
I
guessed
you
would
be
in
sorrow
,
so
I
thought
I
would
just
step
this
far
and
see
you
.
"
Mary
's
tears
flowed
afresh
,
but
she
had
no
desire
to
open
her
heart
to
her
strangely-found
aunt
,
who
had
,
by
her
own
confession
,
kept
aloof
from
and
neglected
them
for
so
many
years
.
Yet
she
tried
to
feel
grateful
for
kindness
(
however
late
)
from
any
one
,
and
wished
to
be
civil
.
Moreover
,
she
had
a
strong
disinclination
to
speak
on
the
terrible
subject
uppermost
in
her
mind
.
So
,
after
a
pause
she
said
,
"
Thank
you
.
I
dare
say
you
mean
very
kind
.
Have
you
had
a
long
walk
?
I
'm
so
sorry
,
"
said
she
,
rising
,
with
a
sudden
thought
,
which
was
as
suddenly
checked
by
recollection
,
"
but
I
've
nothing
to
eat
in
the
house
,
and
I
'm
sure
you
must
be
hungry
,
after
your
walk
.
"
For
Mary
concluded
that
certainly
her
aunt
's
residence
must
be
far
away
on
the
other
side
of
the
town
,
out
of
sight
or
hearing
.
But
,
after
all
,
she
did
not
think
much
about
her
;
her
heart
was
so
aching-full
of
other
things
,
that
all
besides
seemed
like
a
dream
.
She
received
feelings
and
impressions
from
her
conversation
with
her
aunt
,
but
did
not
,
could
not
,
put
them
together
,
or
think
or
argue
about
them
.
And
Esther
!
How
scanty
had
been
her
food
for
days
and
weeks
,
her
thinly-covered
bones
and
pale
lips
might
tell
,
but
her
words
should
never
reveal
!
So
,
with
a
little
unreal
laugh
,
she
replied
,
"
Oh
!
Mary
,
my
dear
!
do
n't
talk
about
eating
.
We
've
the
best
of
every
thing
,
and
plenty
of
it
,
for
my
husband
is
in
good
work
.
I
'd
such
a
supper
before
I
came
out
.
I
could
n't
touch
a
morsel
if
you
had
it
.
"
Her
words
shot
a
strange
pang
through
Mary
's
heart
.
She
had
always
remembered
her
aunt
's
loving
and
unselfish
disposition
;
how
was
it
changed
,
if
,
living
in
plenty
,
she
had
never
thought
it
worth
while
to
ask
after
her
relations
,
who
were
all
but
starving
!
She
shut
up
her
heart
instinctively
against
her
aunt
.
And
all
the
time
poor
Esther
was
swallowing
her
sobs
,
and
over-acting
her
part
,
and
controlling
herself
more
than
she
had
done
for
many
a
long
day
,
in
order
that
her
niece
might
not
be
shocked
and
revolted
,
by
the
knowledge
of
what
her
aunt
had
become
:
—
a
prostitute
;
an
outcast
.
For
she
longed
to
open
her
wretched
,
wretched
heart
,
so
hopeless
,
so
abandoned
by
all
living
things
,
to
one
who
had
loved
her
once
;
and
yet
she
refrained
,
from
dread
of
the
averted
eye
,
the
altered
voice
,
the
internal
loathing
,
which
she
feared
such
disclosure
might
create
.
She
would
go
straight
to
the
subject
of
the
day
.
She
could
not
tarry
long
,
for
she
felt
unable
to
support
the
character
she
had
assumed
for
any
length
of
time
.
They
sat
by
the
little
round
table
,
facing
each
other
.
The
candle
was
placed
right
between
them
,
and
Esther
moved
it
in
order
to
have
a
clearer
view
of
Mary
's
face
,
so
that
she
might
read
her
emotions
,
and
ascertain
her
interests
.
Then
she
began
:
"
It
's
a
bad
business
,
I
'm
afraid
,
this
of
Mr.
Carson
's
murder
.
"
Mary
winced
a
little
.
"
I
hear
Jem
Wilson
is
taken
