nes, such as he once had known her; and now he wondered
how his thoughts could have been absent from an object so pitiable, so
worthy of his attention, as not to give him even a suspicion who she was,
either from her name, or from her person, during the whole trial!

But wonder, astonishment, horror, and every other sensation was absorbed
by--_Remorse_:--it wounded, it stabbed, it rent his hard heart, as it
would do a tender one. It havocked on his firm inflexible mind, as it
would on a weak and pliant brain! Spirit of Agnes! look down, and behold
all your wrongs revenged! William feels--_Remorse_.

CHAPTER XLII.

A few momentary cessations from the pangs of a guilty conscience were
given to William, as soon as he had despatched a messenger to the jail in
which Agnes had been communed, to inquire after the son she had left
behind, and to give orders that immediate care should be taken of him. He
likewise charged the messenger to bring back the petition she had
addressed to him during her supposed insanity; for he now experienced no
trivial consolation in the thought that he might possibly have it in his
power to grant her a request.

The messenger returned with the written paper, which had been considered
by the persons to whom she had intrusted it, as the distracted dictates
of an insane mind; but proved to William, beyond a doubt, that she was
perfectly in her senses.

"TO LORD CHIEF JUSTICE NORWYNNE.

"MY LORD,--I am Agnes Primrose, the daughter of John and Hannah
Primrose, of Anfield. My father and mother lived by the hill at the
side of the little brook where you used to fish, and so first saw me.

"Pray, my lord, have mercy on my sorrows; pity me for the first time,
and spare my life. I know I have done wrong. I know it is
presumption in me to dare to apply to you, such a wicked and mean
wretch as I am; but, my lord, you once condescended to take notice of
me; and though I have been very wicked since that time, yet if you
would be so merciful as to spare my life, I promise to amend it for
the future. But if you think it proper I should die, I will be
resigned; but then I hope, I beg, I supplicate, that you will grant my
other petition. Pray, pray, my lord, if you cannot pardon me, be
merciful to the child I leave behind. What he will do when I am gone,
I don't know, for I have been the only friend he has had ever since he
was born. He was bo