they are
now still more fixed. I will take my chance; but I never will say one
word. You already know and have guessed more than I could wish; I will
not say that you are right, for it is not my secret."

"I thought as much," replied Mary, "and I feel how much my arguments
must be weakened by the disclosures I have made. Before, I only felt
for you; now I feel for all. Oh, Joey! why are you, so innocent, to be
punished this way, and I, so guilty, to be spared?"

"It is the will of God that I should be in this strait, Mary; and now
let us not renew the subject."

"But, Joey, Mr Trevor is coming here to-morrow; and he told me to tell
you that you must have no reservation with your lawyer, if you wish him
to be of service to you."

"You have given your message, Mary; and now you must leave me to deal
with him."

"My heart is breaking," said Mary, solemnly. "I wish I were in my grave
if that wish is not wicked."

"Mary, recollect one thing;--recollect it supports me, and let it
support you;--I am innocent."

"You are, I'm sure; would to Heaven that I could say the same for
another! But tell me, Joey, what shall I do when I meet your mother? I
loved her before; but, oh! how much I love her now! What shall I do?
Shall I tell her that I have discovered all? I do not know how I can
keep it from her."

"Mary, I see no objection to your telling her, but tell her also that I
will not see her till after my trial; whatever my fate may be, I should
like to see her after that is decided."

"I will take your message the day after to-morrow," replied Mary; "now I
must go and look out for lodgings, and then write to your mother. Bless
you!"

Mary quitted the cell; she had suffered so much that she could hardly
gain the gaoler's parlour, where she sat down to recover herself. She
inquired of the gaoler's wife if she could procure apartments near the
prison, and the woman requested one of the turnkeys to take her to a
lodging which would be suitable. As soon as Mary was located, she wrote
a letter to Mrs Austin, informing her of her having seen the lawyer,
and that his services were secured; and then, worn out with the anxiety
and excitement of the three last days, she retired to bed, and in her
sleep forgot her sufferings.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

IN WHICH OUR HERO MAKES UP HIS MIND TO BE HANGED.

Our hero was not sorry to be left alone; for the first time he felt the
absence of Mary a relief. He was almost