“They!—He!—Never—while I live, never!”
“You see this young man, Mary Monson—I believe he is known to you, by name?”
Mary Monson turned her face towards Millington, smiled coldly, and seemed undisturbed.
“What is he to me?—Here is the woman of his heart;—let him turn to her, with all his care.”
“You understand me, Mary Monson—it is important that I should be assured of that.”
“Perhaps I do, Mr. Dunscomb, and perhaps I do not. You are enigmatical this morning; I cannot be certain.”
“In one short half-hour the bell of yonder court-house will ring, when you are to be tried for your life.”
The cheek of the accused blanched a little; but its colour soon returned, while her eye assumed a look even prouder than common.
“Let it come”—was her quiet answer—“the innocent need not tremble. These two pure beings have promised to accompany me to the place of trial, and to give me their countenance. Why, then, should I hesitate?”
“I shall go, too”—said Millington, steadily, like one whose mind was made up.