"You have determined to adopt the course which I should have counselled," said Clarence. "It would be useless to attempt the defence of that which is so clearly apparent. The forged signature had not the baronet's private mark attached to it; but the clerk who cashed it for you, did not think of scrutinising it so closely at the moment, as you were well known to him. A subsequent examination of it proved the forgery. Stands not the case so? At least, it was thus reported in the newspapers."
"The statement is correct," answered Mrs. Torrens, mournfully; "and I feel convinced that I shall possess a greater chance of obtaining the royal mercy, by pleading guilty at once and confessing my error. Oh! to escape death—a premature death—a horrible death!" she cried, suddenly becoming nervously excited again.
"Compose yourself, aunt—compose yourself!" exclaimed Clarence; "for you have an act of justice to do towards an innocent man. In a word, I wish you to sign the account of the murder of Sir Henry Courtenay, as you received it from the lips of Mr. Torrens, and as you have now related it to me. I will draw it up briefly; and no one can tell of what benefit the existence of such a document may prove to your unhappy husband."
Clarence hastened to procure writing materials from the governor's office; and, on his return to the parlour, he drew up the statement, combining it with a confession of the forgery, though not mentioning the name of Mr. Torrens in connexion with that latter crime. The penitent woman then signed the paper in a firm handwriting; and it immediately appeared as if a load were taken from her mind.
Villiers now informed her that Rosamond had found an asylum with some kind friends of the Jewish persuasion; but, faithful to his promise to Esther de Medina, he did not drop even so much as a hint of the hopes which that admirable young lady had held out with regard to the expected proclamation and existing proofs of Mr. Torrens' innocence. It struck him, however, that the paper which he had that moment received from his aunt might assist the steps that were in such mysterious progress elsewhere to remove from the head of his father-in-law the dreadful charge which rested upon it.
"I must now leave you, aunt," said the young man, rising from his seat.
"Shall you visit Mr. Torrens?" she inquired, in a hesitating manner.
"Not to-day," was the answer. "The prison regulations do not permit visitors to call on the same inmate of this gaol two days consecutively. In fact—for I abhor every thing savouring of duplicity—I will candidly inform you that Adelais, myself, Rosamond, and the young lady with whom that poor girl is staying, saw Mr. Torrens yesterday."
"You visited him first!" murmured the wretched woman. "But I do not blame you—I cannot reproach you, Clarence," she added hastily. "It was natural that your wife should wish to see her father—and equally natural that you should accompany her. Besides, I know that it must have cost you a painful effort, to enter the presence of one so stained with crime—so polluted—so infamous as I!"
"Your contrition has obliterated from my mind all feelings save those of regret and commiseration," returned Clarence warmly. "Would that justice could so easily forget the past as I!"