“This is very good in you, Jennie,” he said. “I have just been thinking of you, and wishing for you; but not hoping.”
“You did not think I had forgotten you?” she said, reproachfully.
“No, no, Jennie; I had faith in your love. But how I did want you!”
He kissed her again, clasping her still closer.
“And what a place this is,” she said, looking round the cell. “I would have been here before, John, but I was hindered. I thought, indeed, the first few days, that you would not stay here.”
“How could I help myself, Jennie? No bird would stay in its cage if the door was open.”
“You could open the door with a word. You know you could,” she said, looking tenderly but eagerly into his face. “You are innocent. Why will you not clear yourself?”
“It looks as if I were guilty,” he replied, leading her to the only chair the cell afforded. “The law and the public seem to think so.”
“It is your own fault, John. You are incomprehensible. Why are you so silent? I cannot guess a reason. You must clear yourself.”
“And convict others?”