I will give
you half-a-crown if you will go quick."
For, indeed, her endurance, her patience, was strained almost to
snapping; yet at Hellingford station, where doubtless they could have
told her the truth, she dared not ask the question. It was past eight
o'clock at night. In many houses in the little country town there were
unusual lights and sounds. The inhabitants were showing their
hospitality to such of the strangers brought by the assizes, as were
lingering there now that the business which had drawn them was over. The
Judges had left the town that afternoon, to wind up the circuit by the
short list of a neighbouring county town.
Mr. Johnson was entertaining a dinner-party of attorneys when he was
summoned from dessert by the announcement of a "lady who wanted to speak
to him immediate and particular."
He went into his study in not the best of tempers. There he found his
client, Miss Wilkins, white and ghastly, standing by the fireplace, with
her eyes fixed on the door.
"It is you, Miss Wilkins! I am very glad--"
"Dixon!" said she. It was all she could utter.
Mr. Johnson shook his head.
"Ah; that's a sad piece of business, and I'm afraid it has shortened your
visit at Rome."
"Is he--?"
"Ay, I'm afraid there's no doubt of his guilt. At any rate, the jury
found him guilty, and--"
"And!" she repeated, quickly, sitting down, the better to hear the words
that she knew were coming--
"He is condemned to death.
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