Our hero had, however, the greatest of all consolations to
support him--the consciousness of his innocence; but when he called to
mind how happy and prosperous he had lately been, when he thought of
Emma--and that now all his fair prospects and fondest anticipations were
thrown to the ground, it is not surprising that for a short time he wept
in his solitude and silence. To whom should he make known his
situation? Alas! it would too soon be known; and would not every one,
even Emma, shrink from a supposed murderer? No! there was one who would
not--one on whose truth he could depend; Mary would not desert him, even
now; he would write to her, and acquaint her with his situation. Our
hero, having made up his mind so to do, obtained paper and ink from the
gaoler when he came into his cell, which he did in about two hours after
he had been locked up. Joey wrote to Mary, stating his position in few
words, and that the next morning he was to be taken down to Exeter to
await his trial; and expressed a wish, if possible, that she would come
there to see him; and giving a guinea to the turnkey, requested him to
forward the letter.

"It shall go safe enough, young master," replied the man. "Now, do you
know, yours is one of the strangest cases which ever came to my
knowledge?" continued the man; "we've been talking about it among
ourselves: why the first warrant for your apprehension was out more than
eight years ago; and, to look at you now, you cannot be more than
seventeen or eighteen."

"Yes, I am," replied Joey; "I am twenty-two."

"Then don't you tell anybody else that, and I will forget it. You see
youth goes a great way in court; and they will see that you must have
been quite a child when the deed was done--for I suppose by the evidence
there is no doubt of that--and it won't be a hanging matter, that you
may be certain of; you'll cross the water, that's all: so keep up your
spirits, and look as young as you can."

Mary received the letter on the following day, and was in the deepest
distress at its contents. She was still weeping over it, her work had
been thrown down at her feet, when Mrs Austin came into the
dressing-room where she was sitting.

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Mrs Austin.

"I have received a letter from my brother, madam," replied Mary; "he is
in the greatest distress; and I must beg you to let me go to him
immediately."

"Your brother, Mary! what difficulty is he in?" asked Mrs Aust