"Hush! it is there again. Are the winds human, that they moan so?"
"It is a fierce storm, nothing more," said Jacob.
A woman came down the steps that moment. She had no cloak on, and a thin shawl hung in limp folds over her shoulders. An old hood lay back from her face, revealing features large and stern, but for the instant softened with sorrow. She came from the vestibule overhead. In that direction lay the court-room. Ada saw the woman, and holding out both her hands, shivering and purple with cold, walked slowly up to meet her. These two females had seen each other but once in the world. One was from a prison, the other from a palatial home; yet they stood face to face, on equal terms, now. I am wrong; the woman of the prison looked down with something of stern rebuke upon the lady. She said in her heart, "The blood of this old man be upon her head! Did she not deny me the gold that might have saved him?" But when she looked upon that face, her resentment gave way. She paused on the steps, instead of pushing roughly by, and said, in a tone that sounded peculiarly gentle from its contrast with her appearance and bearing—
"This is a bitter night, madam."
"Tell me—tell me," gasped Ada, seizing the woman's shawl, and raising her hand toward the court-room, "have they—have they—"
"Poor thing! so you repent at last," answered the woman, comprehending her gesture with that quick magnetism which is the lightning of some hearts. "No, they have not come in; but it is of no use waiting—the poor old man is as good as hung, depend on it."
Ada uttered a faint cry, very faint, but it seemed to her that it sounded through the whole building, ringing above the storm like a yell. She dropped the woman's shawl, and stood motionless, looking helplessly in her face.
"You had better take the lady home," said the woman, turning kindly to Jacob; "she is wet through—the ice rattles on her clothes; she will catch her death of cold. I would stay and help her, for she seems in trouble; but there is worse trouble coming for the poor creature overhead. I thought I had seen hard sights before; but this—there is no brandy strong enough to make me forget this!"
"There is no news—the jury are still out?" questioned Jacob. "Tell me!"
"No, no—I have nothing to say—the jury are out yet—the judge waiting—the old man—"