He shuddered as she asked the question:
“Tell me in plain words what I have to bear.”
“It is too horrible, Hermione. I cannot look at you and do it.”
“Then turn your eyes from me, but tell me—let me know.”
“If it be true that you have committed this crime you will be tried for it.”
“Tried—where—tell me all about it, Kenelm, I am so ignorant.”
“You will be taken from here to Lowestone Prison to await your trial on the charge of willful murder. Hermione, you are ill and are hiding it from me.”
She laughed with scornful despair.
“Can you care for my being ill when you have hunted me down to death?” she said. “How absurd that seems, Kenelm. I am not ill, but there is a strange feeling at my heart as though my strength were failing. It will not hurt me—go on! I shall be tried at Lowestone. Can I take the children, or must I say good-by to them forever?”
“You cannot take them, of course, Hermione. You can employ the best counsel in England; you can have the best defense.”