"The river—or the Monument," she said, as she continued her rapid way: "the river is near—but the Monument is nearer. Drowning must be slow and painful—the other will be instantaneous. From the river I might be rescued; but no human power can snatch me from death during a fall from that dizzy height."
And she glanced upwards to the colossal pillar whose base she had now reached.
At that moment two men, evidently belonging to the working classes, passed her.
A portion of their conversation met her ears.
"And so she was not his sister, then?" said one.
"No such thing," replied the other. "I heard the governor of Newgate tell all about it to one of the City officers scarcely half an hour ago. The governor was coming out of a lawyer's house—Tracy's lawyer, I believe—and the City officer was waiting for him at the door. He then told him that it was a lady of fashion—with a name something like Cecilia Scarborough, I think——"
The men were now too far for the wretched woman to hear any more of their conversation.
"Merciful heavens!" she said, scarcely able to prevent herself from wringing her hands; "even at this moment I am not safe!"
Then, without farther hesitation, she passed round the base of the Monument, and crossed the threshold.
"Sixpence, if you please, ma'am," said the man who received the fees from visitors.