“I will, madam.”
“And, Mary, if you think it advisable, you can remain in town for two or three days; but pray write to me every day.”
“I will, madam.”
“Let me know your address, as I may wish to say something to you when I know what has been done.”
“I will, madam.”
“And now you had better go to bed, Mary, for you must be tired; indeed, you look very fatigued, my poor girl; I need not caution you not to say anything to any of the servants; good night.”
Mary threw herself on the bed, she was indeed worn out with anxiety and grief; at last she slept. The next morning she was on her way to town, having, in reply to the curiosity of the servants, stated that the cause of her journey was the dangerous illness of her brother.
As soon as she arrived in London, Mary drove to the chambers of the lawyer, whose direction she had obtained from the Exeter gaoler’s wife; he was at home, and after waiting a short time, she was ushered by the clerk into his presence.
“What can I do for you, young lady?” inquired Mr Trevor, with some surprise: “it is not often that the den of a lawyer has such a bright vision to cheer it. Do me the favour to take a chair.”
“I am not a young lady, sir,” replied Mary; “I have come to you to request that you will be so kind as to defend my brother, who is about to be tried.”