could reply, he spoke again.

'Am I to live or die? Do you murder too, or spare?'

'My son--our son,' she answered, 'is in this prison.'

'What is that to me?' he cried, stamping impatiently on the stone
pavement. 'I know it. He can no more aid me than I can aid him. If you
are come to talk of him, begone!'

As he spoke he resumed his walk, and hurried round the court as before.
When he came again to where she stood, he stopped, and said,

'Am I to live or die? Do you repent?'

'Oh!--do YOU?' she answered. 'Will you, while time remains? Do not
believe that I could save you, if I dared.'

'Say if you would,' he answered with an oath, as he tried to disengage
himself and pass on. 'Say if you would.'

'Listen to me for one moment,' she returned; 'for but a moment. I am but
newly risen from a sick-bed, from which I never hoped to rise again. The
best among us think, at such a time, of good intentions half-performed
and duties left undone. If I have ever, since that fatal night, omitted
to pray for your repentance before death--if I omitted, even then,
anything which might tend to urge it on you when the horror of your
crime was fresh--if, in our later meeting, I yielded to the dread that
was upon me, and forgot to fall upon my knees and solemnly adjure you,
in the name of him you sent to his account with Heaven, to prepare for
the retribution which must come, and which is stealing on you now--I
humbly before you, and in the agony of supplication in which you see me,
beseech that you will let me make atonement.'

'What is the meaning of your canting words?' he answered roughly. 'Speak
so that I may understand you.'

'I will,' she answered, 'I desire to. Bear with me for a moment more.
The hand of Him who set His curse on murder, is heavy on us now. You
cannot doubt it. Our son, our innocent boy, on whom His anger fell
before his birth, is in this place in peril of his life--brought here
by your guilt; yes, by that alone, as Heaven sees and knows, for he
has been led astray in the darkness of his intellect, and that is the
terrible consequence of your crime.'

'If you come, woman-like, to load me with reproaches--' he muttered,
again endeavouring to break away.

'I do not. I have a different purpose. You must hear it. If not
to-night, to-morrow; if not to-morrow, at another time. You MUST hear
it. Husband, escape is hopeless--impossible.'

'You tell me so, do you?' he said, raising his manacled hand, and
shaki