Bad man as Chudley unquestionably was, now that he was condemned, Joe Doughty could not rest satisfied without “making it up wi’ him,” as he termed it, and hence his visit to the gaol.
The governor and prison chaplain took special pains to impress upon the wretched man the fact that there was not the slightest chance of his gaining a reprieve, and Chudley had said nothing to indicate that he had any hope that his life would be spared.
It was thought, however, by those in attendance on him that he scarcely realised the full extent of the crime of which he had been found guilty.
Strange as it may appear, people took an interest in the prisoner, Giles Chudley; and there were many who believed that her Majesty’s prerogative ought to be exercised in his case.
The venerable vicar of Broxbridge, Canon Lenthall, paid a visit to the prisoner, and did his best to bring him to a sense of the great change which awaited him. Chudley listened to the admonitions of the reverend gentleman, but still persisted that he had been a mere puppet in the hands of a wicked and designing woman.
The worthy vicar, upon returning to Broxbridge, made the earl, Mr. Jamblin, and his daughter, acquainted with the mental condition of the wretched man.
A long consultation and conversation took place, and a day or two after this the porter of the gaol in which the condemned man was confined, while looking out of his lodge, saw a gentleman and lady crossing the street towards him.
The lady was pale and sad-looking, the gentleman was tall and broad-set, with the ruddy sunburnt face of a man who had spent his life in the country and open air, but his step had lost its elasticity, and lines of sorrow were observable on his features.
He was draped in black, which farmers in the country believe to be the proper and fashionable costume for Sundays, holidays, and visiting days.
It was easy enough for anyone to divine that these two persons were bent on some mission which was new and strange to both of them.