"Justice, sir!" faltered the frail woman, an icy coldness striking to her heart.
"Yes, madam," answered the lawyer; "and even from the grave will the wrongs of Reginald Tracy cry out against you."
"My God! what do you mean?" she exclaimed, her pallor now becoming actually livid.
"Before Reginald Tracy took the poison which hurried him to his last account," continued the solicitor in a low and solemn tone, "he wrote two letters. These were found upon the table in his cell. One was to Katherine Wilmot—the other was to me. The governor of Newgate has just been with me, and has delivered to me this last communication from my poor friend."
"The governor of Newgate!" repeated Cecilia, now overwhelmed with vague terrors.
"Yes, madam: and the contents are to inform me that you—you, madam, with an assumed name, and passing yourself off as Mr. Tracy's sister, visited him twice in his cell, and, on the latter occasion, furnished him with the means of self-destruction."
"Heaven protect me! it is but too true!" cried Cecilia; and, throwing herself upon her knees before the lawyer, she almost shrieked the words, "You would not give me up to justice, sir—you will not betray me?"
"No, madam," answered Mr. Wharton; "I had punished you sufficiently when these tidings arrived."
"Thank you, sir—thank you," cried Cecilia, rising from her knees. "But the governor of Newgate——"
"Is gone, madam. I did not tell him that you were here. I must, however, warn you that I communicated to him, as in duty bound, the contents of this letter."